​

          It was a bird, but as I climbed through the fence, it flew away. What was this other thing now before me: a piece of bark; an animal of some sort? It was something standing motionless, erect, grey, and motley looking. As I slowly approached I saw that it was another bird, a young one. It was not moving and had its eyes closed.

​

          Another bird joined the first one and together made a curious sound. I was quite close to the young bird, and as it opened its eyes and saw me, it started to flail about. I realised this was the baby and the other two, its parents. They were now making a somewhat frantic sound while flying to and from the baby and the tree. The fledgling appeared unable to fly and continued floundering.

​

          Not able to rescue the situation, I moved away, wondering why I should even be witness to it. However, as I walked towards the dam, my gaze returned to the scenario: Am I like that bird? I continued up the hill and tried to sing the song, “Come, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,” but my steps were slow and cumbersome, and so was my attempt at singing.

​

          Several days earlier I had stridden up this hill (my mountain) to meet with the Lord singing that very song and upon reaching the top had a most beautiful worship time in the presence of the Lord and the most amazing feeling as if Ian was standing right beside me.

​

          However, this day was different in all aspects of that previous day. I finally
reached the top and slumped to the ground at the base of the big rock. As I
thought about the glaring difference between those two days, I realised the
question I hadasked about me being like the baby bird was, in fact,
affirmative: I was likethat bird – helpless, unable to fly, floundering. Yes!
That was me! God, helpme! How do I get out of this mess?

​