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The Wren

Wrens are quite plentiful here. They hop about, looking for whatever it is birds look for. They are not flashy birds. No bird watcher exclaims over a wren sighting. In fact, they are rather plain, sometimes muddled-looking, unobtrusive.

I wonder if we aren't a bit like wrens. Most of us lead fairly simple lives - we work, care for our families, have a bit of fun. We cook and clean, laugh and pray. We are not followed by the paparazzi, we are not interviewed by the press, no one cares what we wear or emulates our style.

Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they?

Maybe it's because I spent time last week with a friend talking about St. Therese, but the wrens have really struck me the last day or two. Simple, quiet, sweet, plain birds. Doing what they were made to do every day. If only we could be like them.

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