When the Hummingbirds Bathe in the Roses

Our mornings at Winterpast usually begin the same way. First things first, The Princess and Oliver get their gourmet meals, as they prepare for the first nap of the morning. HHH settles into his chair with coffee in hand while I sit at my desk to write as the house slowly wakes up around us.

A few weeks ago, I noticed a little activity near the Happy Go Lucky rosebush outside the window. There was fluttering. Movement. A tiny flash of wings inside the “Happy Go Lucky” rosebush. A hummingbird was playing in the bush.

At least, that was what I thought at first.

But why?

Roses do not have the nectar hummingbirds usually seek. The bush is also much too low for a nest, especially with Oliver and Tanner wandering around looking for snacks.

I stopped writing to watch more closely.

The little bird dipped into the petals, fluttered its wings, shook itself, and disappeared deeper into the flowers. Then it popped back up, wet and sparkling in the morning light.

That was when I understood.

This little guy was taking a bath.

Tiny drops of dew had collected inside the rose petals overnight, creating the smallest and most beautiful birdbath imaginable. The little hummingbird splashed and fluttered among the flowers as if this were the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps it was.

Watching for a few minutes, my coffee and writing were forgotten. I simply watched this tiny creature enjoy its morning bath in the roses. It was one of those small moments that could easily have been missed. Had I been rushing, worrying, or staring only at the computer screen, I might never have noticed the fluttering in the bush. Instead, God gave me a front-row seat to a little summer miracle.

The hummingbirds return to Winterpast every year. They dart from flower to flower, hover near the feeders, and fill the garden with movement. But this was the first time I had realized they were also bathing in the roses, using a birdbath God provided.

Jesus tells us in Matthew 6 to look at the birds of the air. They do not plant crops, gather harvests, or store food away, yet our Heavenly Father feeds and cares for them.

That little bird wasn’t worried about tomorrow. He was simply enjoying what had been provided that morning: a rosebush, a little dew, and a safe place to splash in the sunshine.

I wish I were always that trusting.

I spend far too much time thinking ahead, planning, worrying, and trying to control things that are not mine to control. Sometimes I carry tomorrow’s troubles before tomorrow has even arrived.

The hummingbird carried nothing. It simply received the gift waiting in the roses. Perhaps faith sometimes looks less like striving and more like trusting. God has faithfully met me through every season of my life—the joyful ones, the heartbreaking ones, and all the ordinary mornings in between.

Sometimes His reminders arrive in big, unmistakable ways. Other times, they arrive on tiny wings and take a bath in the roses outside the window. The God who watches over that little hummingbird is watching over us, too. We only need to slow down long enough to notice.