One evening as Gary and I were sitting on the patio a little owl showed his presence (maybe her presence). We were pleased and started talking to the owl in low, inviting tones. With big eyes he slowly stepped toward us, stopping every few steps. We kept sending “sweet nothings” to him with gentleness. He walked to within 6 feet of where we were sitting on the glider, settling himself to be snugged in, close to the inner branches of a Myrtle bush. There he stayed—standing, yet with a constant eye on us.

We both felt joy in this new adventure especially as the owl returned daily to stand by our Myrtle while we were so near. Besides enjoying getting up close and personal with hummingbirds at points, since building our home here 29 years ago, this is the first real “visitation” initiated by a bird.

Each time we saw him we felt joined. It was happy-making. Then, he was gone and didn’t come any more. It was like losing a friend.

It comes to mind how much God must enjoy our times of coming to Him in prayer. And, how it could hurt Him when we let go our coming to Him.

Words written by Cecil Frances Alexander in her Hymns for Little Children, 1848, All Things Bright and Beautiful, containing stanzas elaborating words within the Apostles’ Creed reminding of God as maker of all.

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
.
Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.

The purple headed mountain,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;−
The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden
He made them every one:

The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;

He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,

The song’s main point, lifts the heart:

“How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.” Amen.

At times coming to God is like the little owl wanting to be close, yet cautiously approaching, full of questions . . . often unable to formulate them. It is easy to be so in awe of God that we may wonder how safe it is to come close. This is a question that many speak of, in so many words, before gaining enough courage to know Him.

With eyes on us, we cherished being observed by this beloved creature. There was a sense of being seen that held gentleness and gratitude—or so we thought. The owl may have experienced something entirely different, like ”Will they help me, or hurt me.”

Both Gary and I relished being so close, so trusted. We felt sad when the owl did not return.

Is this what God feels when we fly off to a life without Him? Or, does God not feel . . . rather just waits, knowing all will be with Him—in the end? Perhaps the little owl “coming alongside” us for significant periods of time could be compared with our ”visitations,” wherein we set out  to commune with God—with words, or speechlessly in awe.