Her name was Peanut. She came with the spring flowers and sunshine.
Sunday mornings were bacon and eggs, melted cheese, tortillas and fresh salsa. In the shade of an umbrella on the front patio, overstuffed cushions tumbled over a white chippy wrought-iron loveseat. Sheree and I would tangle feet and cuddle our coffee.
Time to dream. What would our lives be like? Kids? Travel? Sheree wanted to sing. I was writing a screen play. This was a house you could grow old in. She’d have long gray hair. No curlers for her. I’d have a workshop where I could putter. Invent things.
Little birds hopped and pecked on the concrete. We’d laugh while they squabbled and chased each other. Sheree scattered seeds by the handful.
“Watch this,” Sheree grinned and tossed an unshelled peanut out into the sun.
It wasn’t long before blue wings, scruffy gray breast, and curious intelligent eyes swooped down and scooped it up. Scrub jays can’t resist peanuts. Sheree couldn’t resist birds. Heaven was little feet on her hands and shoulders.
This little scrub jay came back every Sunday. We’d toss peanuts closer and closer to our feet until one day she landed on my knee. Then Sheree’s hand. The little jay was insatiable. We named her Peanut.
Weekdays, her little blue face would pop up outside our kitchen window. If no one was there, she’d fly to the other side of the house. The office. My desk looked out on the backyard through french doors. She’d land on the door handle and tap the glass. How did she know I was there? I think she recognized my face through the window. Birds recognize faces.
Fresh unshelled peanut held out in my palm, I’d step out the back door. A flick of her tail, a flash of blue, and her little feet gripped my finger. She’d snatch the peanut and look up at me for just a moment. As if to say thank you. Then she was gone. Until tomorrow.
Scrub jays are notorious little thieves. Stealing peanuts is a favorite. I’d see other jays on top of the fence or tree branches. Beady little eyes watched Peanut with her treasures.
“There’s plenty for you too,” I’d hold out a handful of peanuts. Hungry jays kept a safe distance. I was huge and terrifying. Yet my hand was the safest place they could be. What cat, hawk, snake, or whatever else they feared would dare come near? Everything they wanted was right there in my palm.
Do you think God is like that? “I have wonderful plans for you. Plans to prosper you, not to harm you. Want to find me? Just come seek me with all your heart.” (Jer 29:11-12)
Why don’t we? Too busy? What are we afraid we’ll lose if we make him our first priority? What do you dream about or wish so hard for? How many of your hungers does God long to “really” satisfy if you would just dare come close enough. Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart. (Ps 37:4, Jn 15:7) Look around. If you’re honest, there isn’t any other way to get them. Not really.