Practically every day for almost five weeks, my wife and I watched two determined bluejays build a nest in the V of an oak tree outside our den window.
They showed up early, usually by daybreak, to begin their labor. Working together, they brought in twig after twig, pine straw after pine straw to place in the V. They apparently took most afternoons off.
Between their visits, unfortunately, nearly all of their hard work had fallen or blown to the ground by unsympathetic winds. But they didn’t give up.
On the eve of Easter, they put in a full day’s work, adding pieces of tissue and flimsy plastic to their foundation of twigs, which finally stayed put. By the end of the day, their house appeared to be almost complete.
At 11:30 a.m. Easter Eve, our granddaughter, Jessica, and her boyfriend, Josh, repeated their wedding vows in Lexington, Va. They were to have married on June 7, but something called coronavirus would have objected. So they moved the date to April 11, with plans to renew their vows – with bridesmaids, groomsmen, parents, friends and relatives – on Sept. 13, at the same venue. The wedding was small. Not even the parents could attend. There was a young minister, who was rushed into ordination just six days before. There were two friends. And there was Wally – the couple’s golden retriever puppy – who served as ring bearer, the symbol of oneness tied around his neck. On Palm Sunday, a niece, Hannah, had given birth to Lindy Sue. Early in the morning of Easter Sunday, Hannah’s sister, Rebecca – not to be outdone – became mom to Adella Marion. Both mothers and daughters are doing fine.
Later that morning, my wife and I celebrated Easter with others from our church. It was a totally virtual experience: worship without fellowship. On Maundy Thursday, we had commemorated the Lord’s Supper, each of us taking half a vanilla wafer and a tiny Tupperware tumbler of sweet tea in place of unleavened bread and wine.
Easter night and early Monday morning, a storm of enormous dimensions – one carrying tornadoes, heavy winds and rain – swept across the South. Many died.
Thankfully, everyone in our family emerged unscathed. Jessica and Josh were snug in a cabin in the mountains of North Carolina as the storm passed over. In about a year, both of them will be master’s graduates in architecture from the University of Virginia. Their future is bright.
The newborns of our nieces stayed safe; Rebecca and Della still in the hospital, Hannah and Lindy in the basement of an aunt’s home. The bluejays’ nest remained intact, even though both were busy Monday morning adding finishing touches.
Storms are part of life. Some are invisible and lingering, forcing people indoors to avoid infection. Others come and go quickly, like the wind. Both kinds can be deadly.
For us, thank God, faith, love, and new life managed to survive the week, an Easter season none of us will ever forget.
Phil Hudgins is senior editor of Community Newspapers Inc. Email phudgins@cninewspapers.com.