I sing because I'm free
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know he watches me"
- Civilla D. Martin and Charles H. Gabriel
As some may know, I wear Brother Frank on a chain around my neck.
Brother Frank (better known as St Francis of Assisi) was given to me by Momma H, Pops Fry and the 3Ts (better known as Heidi, Ed, Thad, Toby and Theo Freer-Fry) when I first left Anderson 2.5 years ago. He currently hangs out with Jesus (or at least, the cross anyway) on that chain. Pops and Momma gave that to me when I left Anderson last (northern hemisphere) summer.
In my previous role as children's pastor, I often get seven- and eight-year-olds asking who it is I'm wearing on the chain.
How do you explain that St Francis of Assisi is this great monk with deep theological insights (but no, he's not my boyfriend) to a seven-year-old, whose attention span (when asking this question anyway) is about ten-seconds long?
As I stumbled over my own words the first time, I found myself praying, "Crap. Jesus, please let me do justice to the sainthood of Brother Frank without sounding too dumbed-down or too smart to be irrelevant."
Then the words came.
"My friends gave me this chain when I left America a few years ago. St Francis of Assisi, or as my friends and I like to call him, 'Brother Frank,' was this guy who learnt how important it was to take care of the small things. He liked spending time with the birds because it reminded him that even the little things were important. And I wear this chain because it reminds me that God wants me to take care of the little things, and especially the little people like you guys."
It is the second day of Lent.
As I sit here fiddling with the chain, I find myself willing myself to slow down and notice the little things.
I listen to the cicadas outside--their buzzing becoming a familiar soundtrack to my day.
The clock on the wall provides an accompanying rhythm as I listen to the seconds tick away.
Breathe.
And I remember this time last year.
In the middle of chaos, and crises and wilderness, I drove home one morning in tears.
Some of the little people in my life were in a complicated situation that I accidentally walked into, and I didn't know how to help them.
As I pulled into the driveway and sat in the car weeping, a sparrow appeared on my rear-view mirror and sang its song for a little while while I continued weeping.
And then the words came:
"His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me."
Because even in the little things, there is a Sovereign Being who holds it all.
And we are merely dust. And to dust we will return.
My friend, Ed Breeden shared this on Facebook this morning,
which was a big part of the inspiration for today's post.
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