Soaring with purpose over my roof, a crow carried food in his beak. I walked to the back window to see him poised in the back yard over a deep patch of moss. He dropped his peanut and then poked it three or four times with his beak, pushing it deeper. He looked, then found and reached for a nearby frond to drop on the cache to cover it.
One of the neighbors leaves peanuts out for all the critters. Some peanuts end up in the bird bath, soaked beyond recognition, putting off the birds. Squirrels dig in the flower pots routinely to hide or retrieve their treasures, leaving roots awry, dirt spilled.
I’d never seen a crow hide a nut before. But they’re notoriously inventive, wise and wily. Surprising, too, like the one who shook snow on Robert Frost. Surprise, in our overbooked lives, jars perspective, lifts mood, lightens darkness.
Grace is like that.
Do you have hope for the future?
Someone asked Robert Frost, toward the end.
Yes, and even for the past, he replied,
that it will turn out to have been all right
for what it was, something we can accept,
mistakes made by the selves we had to be….
When least expected, grace weaves rainbows through storm clouds. Leaves promises we can trust. Assures us that Creation is always, always inventing, surprising glimpses of riches where we least expect.
Why not, then, that some good comes out of what we remember when we were too young, too inexperienced, even too unwise, to know…mistakes made by who we were.
Then wouldn’t it have been worth it after all?