Let’s say there are things you want/need in life, like a job or a literary agent or a boyfriend, and let’s say, for the sake of this blog post, that those things can be metaphorically represented by birds (I’ve been coming up with the wackiest metaphors lately, which either means I’m tapping into a new realm of my creative subconscious, or I really am going insane this time).
This is a conversation I’ve been having with God for the past three months…
Me: I need a pigeon.
God: Here’s a guinea fowl.
God: A guinea fowl.
Me: But I need a pigeon.
God: Haven’t you always wanted a guinea fowl?
Me: Well, yeah. But I need a pigeon.
God: Why don’t you take care of the guinea fowl?
Me: Because I need a pigeon.
God: You should take care of the guinea fowl.
Me: But what about the pigeon?
God: Take care of the guinea fowl, Jessica.
Me: I need a pigeon, God. The guinea fowl has to wait. It’s too messy, and now it’s pooping on the carpet!
God: You need to take care of this bird. Carry it outside, and build it a hutch.
Me: But what if the pigeon comes while I’m outside?
God: Take care of the guinea fowl.
Me: Fine. (Grabs guinea fowl by its scrawny neck, hauls it outside, and builds it a hutch. This takes approximately two months, during which daily reminders are directed towards God about the need for a pigeon.)
God: The guinea fowl looks happy. Good job.
Me: Thanks. But now I really need a pigeon.
God: Here’s a flamingo.
God: Jessica, here’s a flamingo.
Me: Okay, first of all, a flamingo is too big for me. Second of all, it kind of scares me, and third of all, it’s not a pigeon!
God: Take care of the flamingo.
Me: I don’t have anywhere to put it.
God: Put it over there.
Me: (Looking) But that’s where the pigeon needs to go.
God: Put the flamingo there.
Me: I don’t think it’s going to fit…
Me: *Sigh* (Coaxes the flamingo into the spot prepared for the pigeon, which takes about a month, during which the flamingo does a lot of wing flapping and running about the house, inducing several chases, before it finally settles down. This is all very distracting, and during this time, the desire for a pigeon falls by the wayside.)
God: You did a good job with the flamingo, Jessica.
Me: Thank you. Dare I remind You that I need a pigeon?
God: How’s the guinea fowl doing?
Me: … I’ll go check. (Stays outside with the guinea fowl for a week.) It’s fine. I’m feeding it every day.
God: Here’s a dodo bird.
Me: Um, aren’t those extinct?
God: Not this one.
Me: Okay, but I’m pretty sure I don’t need a dodo bird.
God: You lost this bird a while ago, remember? I’m bringing it back to you.
Me: And I suppose You want me to put it next to the flamingo, right?
Me: All right… (Puts the dodo bird next to the flamingo, and tends to them both for another week.) Now what?
God: Doesn’t the guinea fowl’s hutch need rebuilding?
Me: (Looks outside) Yes. But you know, I can take care of a pigeon at the same time.
God: Rebuild the guinea fowl hutch, Jessica. Take care of the flamingo and the dodo bird.
Me: Do I have to go out and get a pigeon myself? Because I will.
God: Is that what you want?
Me: No. I want to take care of the birds You’ve given me. But I need a pigeon.
God: Here’s a canary.
Me: God, I don’t think You’re getting this. You know I’m going to die without a pigeon, right?
God: Are you?
Me: (Thinking) Pretty sure, yeah.
God: Didn’t I tell you that not one sparrow is forgotten by Me, and that you are worth more than many sparrows?
Me: Yes, but this is about pigeons.
God: Pigeons are implied by sparrows.
Me: Are they? Because I think they’re from different bird families.
God: We’re getting off topic here.
Me: Sorry. So fine, I’m worth more than many pigeons. It doesn’t change the fact that I need one to survive.
God: Yes, it does. It changes everything. Why don’t you take care of these birds, and I’ll bring you a pigeon if and when you need one?
Me: Well, okay. (Thinking again) Could I have a peacock instead? I’ve always wanted a peacock.
God: Take care of the birds you have, Jessica. I’ll bring you a peacock when you’re ready for it.
Me: Okay. Okay…this is really hard, God.
God: I know. I’ll help you. Just trust Me.
Me: Okay. Thanks. (Thinking some more) I never really wanted a pigeon, you know.
God: I know.