Lloyd E. Meyer, 32°
14610 Garrett Avenue, Apt 306, Apple Valley, Minnesota 55124–7518

God has mysterious and unusual ways of conveying messages to us.

As I walked to the garden that early cool spring morning, there she was, the first robin hopping around the yard with her feathers all puffed up to keep her warm. She did not seem alarmed at the sight of me, only hesitating momentarily to see what I was about.

The next few days she became friendlier, coming close to me as I spaded in the garden. As soon as I walked away, she would spot a worm in the newly turned soil. Sometimes as I sat down for a rest, I would talk to her and she would stretch her body high, cocking her head to one side as if trying to understand me.

Then one day she became busy in the apple tree, and in two days there was a nest and, shortly after, four blue eggs. We watched each other as she sat on her nest and I in my chair. In short order, there were four little mouths extending above the nest waiting for food. From early morning to almost dark, she searched to satisfy their ravenous appetites. There never seemed to be enough. Almost daily the neighbor's ugly cat came through the yard. With covetous eyes, he looked at the nest, causing the robin to scream with fright until I would rush to her rescue. Soon the young left the nest and went their way, but she stayed through the summer. And as I continued in the yard, I would look for her and, shortly, she would appear.

September and October came. The leaves began to fall. As I raked them, she watched and, even after nearly all the other birds had gone to warmer climates, she lingered on. I kept telling her to go, but she did not seem to care.

Then one morning, as I walked toward the garden, there was my little friend fluttering in the grass as if in pain. Thinking she might be injured, I gently picked her up. She tried desperately to gain control, but could neither fly nor walk. It was obvious her plight was hopeless. Her quivering body rested in the palm of my hand, and for a brief moment she tried to hold on to life. But then her head turned on its side, and her eyes slowly closed. The beautiful creature died while I held her.

As I stood silently, it seemed there was something in this drama that was demanded of me. God and I were the only two witnesses to the robin's demise. So, I turned to God and prayed: "There is so much that I do not know or understand in your vast universe. But when You created the bright stars and the blue skies, the beautiful flowers and all your little creatures, did You remember to prepare a place in paradise for this tiny one? You promised a place for me in Heaven, and she is perhaps more deserving than I. She never sinned. She never fought with her neighbors. She sang for us from morning until night. Her only enemy was the neighbor's ugly cat. In your infinite mercy, I pray Your plans include her as they do me."

As I placed her lifeless body into the abandoned nest and covered it with the last fading rose of the summer, I recalled a line from Shakespeare's Hamlet, "All things that live must die, it is nature's route to eternity."

God has mysterious and unusual ways of conveying messages to us. In the beginning, he gave each creature the power to communicate with its kind. As man was his first choice, he gave him the extra privilege of speaking and admonished him to spread His Word to the entire world. All creatures were to share in His Love, which included this little bird. She devoted her last summer sharing that love with others. Living only one day at a time, there was no yesterday or tomorrow, only today. On this last day, she completed the work that God had planned for her, and with grace and dignity her life ended.

Lloyd E. Meyer became a Master Mason in Minnehaha Lodge No. 165 in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in 1955 and a Master of the Royal Secret in the Valley of Minneapolis in 1959. Brother Lloyd will celebrate his 100th birthday on October 10th this year.