The young tree in our front yard wasn't big or strong enough to accommodate the sparrow's nest. In the summer of 1959, I found the damaged nest on the ground as featherless baby birds, chirping incessantly, nestled in its remains.

Concerned, I bolted indoors to create a makeshift refuge to harbor the evicted arrivals. An old straw cowboy hat would do. Outside, I lined the bottom with clumps of dried grass. After carefully moving the survivors into their new home, I hung the hat by its chin-strap on the clothesline, well out of a cat invader's reach.

Despite my efforts all but one of the baby birds lived. And from that point on, the nurture and welfare of the sole survivor became my primary mission.

With great care I performed the duties of a surrogate mom.

The tiny bird craned its neck to eat morsels of bread I had moistened in milk and attached to the end of a toothpick. Before long, my efforts paid off. My sparrow grew and formed feathers, though still unable to fly. So, as any good parent would, I helped it along.

The bird gripped my fingers with its claw-like feet as I moved my hand up and down in a sweeping motion. With each downward movement, it fluttered its frail wings yet never attempted to leave the security of my hand. Routinely, I exercised my little friend until his wings gained strength. Soon, he took his first flight, landing on a tree limb nearby. Shortly after, he sailed to the oak tree in my back yard—and beyond. And my mission was accomplished.

Jesus said, "Not one sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it…So don't worry. You are more valuable to him than many sparrows" (Matthew 10:29 & 31).

Do you ever wonder if God knows what you're going through? Do you long for a safe and comfortable nest tucked away somewhere, far from strife? Most of us work to construct a worry-free environment only to find that we're not strong enough to contain that peaceful existence for very long. Life and its unexpected disturbances ultimately dislodge us to the ground.

So my childhood experience was a dress rehearsal for life. When I take a nose-dive, God intervenes. Lovingly, he swoops me into his gentle hands and nurtures me until I'm able to fly on my own.

If God was cognizant of a baby bird in the yard of a 9-year-old girl so long ago, how much more is he aware of the children for whom he gave his life?

In time, like my adopted sparrow, God helps us to grow and fly. For the One who gave us life, gives us the ability to soar in our back yard and beyond. And God's mission is accomplished.