“And don’t you go shooting any living thing now. You hear me?”

“Not even sparrows.”

“Especially not sparrows.”

“Why’s that Mother?”

“Because His Eye Is on the sparrow that’s why?”

“Huh?”

 

“It means Mathew that all life is.” And here she stopped. Why bother telling him that all life is sacred. He wouldn't understand anyway. After all he was just a ten year old excited little boy ready to go out and have fun with his BB gun that he got for his long awaited birthday last week.

​

“Just do target practice with tin cans like you did before, okay?”

“Yes Mother.”

“Lunch’ll be ready shortly. I’ll come get you when it is. Okay?”

“Yes Mother.”

“And check that bluebird house that you made at cub scouts and see if we got us a bluebird yet.”

“Yes Mother. Can I go now? Please. Please.”

“Okay go now before you explode but remember what I said about shooting sparrows.”

He ran out the door hollering over his shoulder, "Yes Mother I will.”

​

They  lived in the last house in a subdivision on the edge of town. There was a woven wire fence between them and the farmer’s field on the other side where the corn was starting to come up. It was spring time. It was the time for the renewal of all life.

​

There on their side of one of the fence posts he had nailed up the bluebird house. On another post, a little ways further down the line, is where he took his target practice. He went over to it, picked up the tin can, and placed it on top of the post. Then he backed off about ten yards or so and began firing away, cock the gun, fire, cock the gun, fire. Finally he knocked the can down and when he went over to reset it he looked down the fence line to check on the blue bird house. And there it was, a male sparrow, perched high and mighty ever so proudly on the edge of the bluebird house roof, singing its lungs out, happy as a lark, and literally free as a bird. Then he saw a female sparrow pop her head out of the hole. How can that be? he thought. I made the hole small enough to keep sparrows out. I did it just the way  the scout master told me to. But the truth of the matter was he hadn’t. His first hole wasn't exactly a hole. It was more of an oval and therefore in order to make the perfect hole, he had to enlarge it some and evidently he had enlarged it a little too much large enough for a sparrow to get in.

​

The male sang away. The female chattered back. Love  was in the air. It was spring time. The time for the renewal of all life.

 

“How dare you two take that bluebird house as your own,” he said to the sparrows. “I made it for the beautiful bluebirds, not for you common dull drab looking sparrows.” But they ignored him and kept chatting away to each other. Then the female popped out and flew off while the male stayed guarding their home.

 

In a second she came back with a small piece of a thrown away kleenex in her beak to feather her nest with it. What kind of bird builds its nest with a piece of dirty tissue paper, thought the youth. A dirty sparrow that’s who. And all the while the proud poppa to be continued singing away, puffing out his chest, singing, and oblivious to all else in the world.

 

This has got to end, the youth said to himself. I can’t let them get by with this. The black ban of feathers on the male sparrow’s puffed out chest offered an oh so tempting target. The youth couldn’t resist. He was going to do it. It had to be done. These common sparrows can’t be allowed to confiscate this home he built for bluebirds. Fearing that he’d scare the bird away if he came any closer, he knew he'd have to take the shot from where he was. Slowly he raised his gun to cock it. With no herky jerky motions he did so and then likewise raised the gun to his shoulder.

​

He was concentrating so hard now on his target that he didn’t notice his mother coming out of the house to tell him that lunch was ready. She spotted him there along the fence line and headed his way. Then she noticed that he was taking aim at something. She squinted her eyes and scrunched up her face to get a better look. Damn him she said to herself, he's going to shoot that sparrow. She was about to yell at him to stop but then she stopped. Oh well let him shoot at it she thought. At that distance he couldn’t possibly hit the poor bird. Then she’d go over to him, take the gun  from him, and ground him for a week for disobeying her.

​

He sighted down the barrel. His eye was on the sparrow now. The bird was perfectly aligned. He fired. But the bird was still standing there. However it wasn’t singing anymore. It was gasping for its life. Then it began to wobble back and forth as It fought valiantly to remain upright and therefore still alive. But it lost the battle. It fell forward, landing face down on the ground, its wings spread eagle in its last attempt to take flight.

​

His mother gasped, put her hand over her mouth, and stood there in disbelief.

​

The youth went over too and knelt down beside the dead bird, picked it up, and placed it upright in the palm of his hand facing him. He got  blood on his hands. He looked at it. The dead bird looked back at him speaking to him through its open eyes asking him why, why did you do this to me, why did you deprive me of my life?

 

His back was to his mother as she came over and stood behind him.

 

“You’re in big trouble young man.”

 

He rose, turned around, faced her, and thrusting his BB gun at her said, “Here take this. I don’t want it anymore. Get rid of it.”

 

She took the gun from him and then noticed that in his other hand palm up he was holding the dead sparrow. Then she finally noticed that he was crying.

​

“Here”, she said, taking a used kleenex from her apron pocket and handing it to him.

 

He took it and wiped away his tears.

 

“Why are you crying? I thought you’d be happy shooting a sparrow.”

“I’m crying Mother because I know now what you meant when you said His eye is on the sparrow. And also I know now that His eye is on me too.”

 

His mother melted.

“Oh Mathew my dear dear sweet sweet Mathew.”

 

She went over to him, put her arm around her repentant son, drew him to her, and hugged him ever so gently yet ever so firmly. She was crying now too. He handed her back the kleenex. She wiped her eyes with it and put it back in her pocket.

 

She blamed herself now for what had just happened here. She should have stopped him when she first saw him and all this could have been avoided. But if she had done that, then no lesson would have been learned now would it. She raised her eyes heavenwards and spoke to God.

​

“Lord, You certainly do move in mysterious ways sometimes don't you now."

 

"Come now my son and let us bury this creature, this creation of God’s, and then let us wash this blood from our hands."

 

And they did.