Birdies in a deluge

I open my eyes and stretch.  It's been pouring all night, but for now I don't hear the rain.  I cock my head.  What is that I hear?  Birdies!  Thousands (I think) of them in the trees outside.  Chittering and chattering, it seems they are making the best of the bird seed whe have scattered about the yard, in feeders and on top of things.  They almost sound frantic.  It's also a happy sound.  I love to hear them chirrupping to each other.  "Hey!  There's good seed at Hank's house and lots of it!"  "Quick before it rains again!"  "Don't forget Junior!"  . . . . and on it goes.

Shortly, I hear a sprinkle or two and the chirping changes.  Suddenly, it's a deluge and the birds are silent again.  Are they huddled together in the tree?  Wings touching to keep warm and dry?  Do they know which branches offer the best seat?  In snowy country, the birds fly south for the winter.  We are south.  Poor birds.

God must have a plan even for these tiny little birds.  I haven't seen one lying in the mud in the front yard overcome by water.  And as soon as the rain gives just the smallest bit, they begin to sing again.  Somewhere in the Bible, I can't put my finger on it just now, it says that they neither toil or spin, yet always the Lord feeds them.  How much more we, who are called His children? 

It's raining harder than I've seen in years and there are floods and mudslides.  I am blessed to be warm and dry.  Huh!   The birds are singing again.  I didn't hear the rain stop.