PATHWAYS

Our neighborhood quail--before the snow

Often when shoveling freshly-fallen snow, I encounter the dainty footprints (claw-prints?) of local California quail, identified by their gray coats and the lone forehead tear-drop feather, like the turban on an oriental potentate. Because female quail typically lay between 8 and 16 eggs, I'm guessing the “tribe” that hangs out under our hedge rose (with its abundance of edible rose hips and buried bugs) is a mom, dad and lots of juvenile quail.

Constantly they cluck “rebekah” as they strut beneath branches. The slightest disturbance—like passersby or our front door opening--sends them into their low-flying escape behavior. Then it's back to rebekah, rebekah, rebekah—their trademark cluck. Sometimes they walk along the top of our backyard fence, their bulky bodies teetering on the narrow fence boards. Though they aren't high fliers like other birds, their wings do provide enough motion to give them soft landings back on earth.

So? Well, having such a beautiful display of God's creation moving through our yard gets me thinking about times in my younger life when I wasn't quite out on my own and still learning from my parents or parent figures in my life. The latter group was particularly important to me because my own parents died when I was a very young adult. Thus I looked for godly adult models to lead me into fuller adulthood. Like a poult (young quail) following close behind a parent, I kept their example in sight.

Of that time in my life, this verse took on personal meaning:

Although the Lord gives you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, your teachers will be hidden no more; with your own eyes you will see them. Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, 'This is the way, walk in in it.'” (Isaiah 30:20-21)

The context, of course, was the prophet Isaiah's warning for Israel to return to God. But he wanted them to realize there could be a better ending to the story being written by conquering nations if they turned from their immature, immoral ways. For me, during my times of adversity and affliction after my parents' death, I became especially tuned in to the character of good people God placed in my life.

Another encouraging passage from that difficult time in my life was Psalm 37:23-24:

The Lord delights in the way of the man whose steps he has made firm; though he stumble, he will not fail, for the LORD upholds him with his hand.

When life got scary—in job and location changes when I didn't know where I'd live, my finances were thin, and I hadn't connected with a spiritual family (okay, are you hearing Mama and Papa Quail clucking me to stay close?)-- I prayed in trust that God would firm up my faltering steps because I believed He was utterly trustworthy. And He did, often in surprising, last-minute ways.

When quail wander over the snow covering our driveway, their claws leave delightful patterns. They circle around a few times, then go off in a different direction. And sometimes my life was like that, too. Not a straight-forward race, but one with detours. But God was keeping His eye on me and—like those parent quails—knew when to signal my need to come back closer to His safe place.