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     Tale of the Blue Bird

I saw the old man talking with the bird. He stood on top of the bluff that overlooks the valley and the river.

I was on the trail that goes that way, taking my wife's bread to market. I do that twice a week, you know.

Hearing voices through the shrubs and trees, I first thought nothing of it, as the pathway is commonly traveled all year. But then I caught sight of the old man. He stood facing a small juniper tree. And he was talking, it appeared, to the tree.

Then I saw the bird.

Perched near the top, the bright blue feathers of the bird glistened in the morning sun. But it was not like a jay or any bluebird I've ever seen. Very beautiful and almost radiant with color, it looked like a bird from a far away land.

And it was talking.

Not mimicking, as some birds are able to do. No, this bird was actually talking, making sensible remarks (although the sight made no sense at all to me).

The man was saying, "I'm sorry, Little Bird. But I have no seed to give you. I tried to buy some in the Market. But I lacked the money for a small bag, and they wouldn't sell me half a bag."

And the bird said, "I'm sure you did the best you could. Perhaps I will find some other way."

I stopped in my tracks. I stared. I listened, unmoving.

"Will the little ones be able to survive long without food?" the old man was asking.

"Not long," the bird replied. "But I'll keep trying."

The old man shook his head slowly, saying again, "I'm so sorry that I could not help you."

The bird had seen me right away, but had not reacted to my presence. Now it looked right at me. And in the moment of silence that followed the old man's last remark, he also turned, following the small bird's gaze until he saw me standing in the middle of the path.

Then they both looked beyond me to the loaves of bread I pulled behind on the two-wheeled cart. I soon realized what they must be thinking.

"You cannot have any of this bread," I said. "I must take all of it to the market. I need to sell every loaf in order to buy more grain to make bread in the weeks to come."

"But sir," said the bird, "Even half a loaf of that fine bread will feed my whole family for several days. It can mean the difference between life and death."

"You must help," said the old man.

"No. I know what I must do," I said. "I must sell this bread and buy more grain. It is what I always do in the first week of every month. I dare not break the routine."

"Ah, yes. The routine," said the bird. "Life is filled with routines and habits and methods and patterns. Is it not? Yet we only discover new things when we’re willing to step beyond the usual, when we’re willing to take a new path."

"I'm sure you are right, little bird," I said (not even thinking of how silly it was for me to be saying such things to a bird). "But I do not have the luxury of taking many paths. I know the path I must take today. The steps I now take have proven to work in the past. I must do what I know to do.

"But sir," the old man now said, "Will you not help another who is in need?"

I thought for a moment, and then said, "And what of my own family who is also in need? We are not rich. I work with stone and my wife bakes breads. My children also work, tending cows. We all work hard in order to keep our house, and to put food on the table, and clothing on our backs."

"Yes, you work hard," said the bird. "But work is not always enough. Life sometimes requires more than a strong back and willing hands. There are opportunities to give all around us -- other people with needs. And when we freely help, when we give without expecting anything good in return, that's when we open the door for God's blessing."

"God helps those who help themselves, little bird," I said. I knew I was right. "My old father told me often to work hard for what I got, and to expect no help from others. I don't expects no help, and I don't offers no help. People get what they earn. That's what I say."

"But we all need help," the old man was saying now. "We all need the help of God to live and breathe each day. We need His blessing if we want our hard work to count, as it should. Your whole family works hard now, and you barely get by. Perhaps you could use the greater blessing God offers those who help others."

And so on and on the conversation went.

After a while, I noticed that the morning was getting away from me. I would have to walk faster now, to get to market on time. But the things the strange blue bird and the old man were saying to me had their effect on me.

I felt foolish for doing so, but I finally gave in.  I had much to do that day, and I had no more time to think or argue about what God will or will not do. So I reached back and got a loaf of my wife's good bread from the pile. I tossed it to the old man who caught it. I said my farewell and hurried off.

At the market, I was surprised when I got more than usual for the bread. "What's this for?" I asked when I got the extra money.

"Oh," said the merchant. "Your wife's bread is the best in the region. So says my customers and so I say. So we're able to get a better price now that everyone knows about it. It isn't so much more, but every little bit helps, eh?"

And then when I went over to buy the grain, I got another surprise.

"Here you go, Thompson," the dealer said as he gave me two whole sacks for the price of one.

"What are you doing?" I asked him.

"We got in a surplus of grain this year, Thompson," he said. "It's more than we can sell. So I always share the extra with my best customers. And this year, you've been one of my very best customers. Be sure and tell the wife I said 'Hello.'"

And so I went back home with all the grain we needed -- with no loss for the bread I had given away. And we were able to produce more bread (I had to build a bigger oven), which made more money for the family.

Not only that, but my oldest son was given two calves of his own by the farmer he works for. And I was able to build two new houses and the new west wall for the large manor by the river. All in all, it was very good year. The best we ever had.

I know what you must be thinking. You either think I'm loony, or you think that the bread I gave away caused God's blessing on me and the family. But I can't tell you what I think. I'm still trying to figure it out for myself.

I've never seen the old man or that shiny blue bird again. And I never heard anyone else say they've seen a strange blue bird around these parts. Maybe I was just dreaming things that day. Or maybe they was angels of some kind. Who knows?

I do know one thing, however. I'm a happier man now than I ever was before.

I'm not afraid to give whenever someone's in need. If there's some little thing I can do for a neighbor, I just go ahead and do it, even if he can't pay me. And so far, doing it that way hasn’t hurt us. God has been kind to us, whatever the reasons. I suppose it's just because He's good to us all, anyway.


The Bible says:

"If there is among you anyone in need, a member of your community in any of your towns within the land that the LORD your God is giving you, do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted toward your needy neighbor. You should rather open your hand, willingly lending enough to meet the need, whatever it may be." (Deuteronomy 15:7,8)

"Whoever is kind to the poor lends to the LORD,

and will be repaid in full." (Proverbs 19:17)

"Some give freely, yet grow all the richer;

others withhold what is due, and only suffer want." (Proverbs 11:24)

"Give liberally and be ungrudging when you do so, for on this account the LORD your God will bless you in all your work and in all that you undertake. Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, 'Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land.'" (Deuteronomy 15:10,11)

 

©2004 Jim Sutton