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Snow, Shelter & Bird Poop

Yesterday afternoon, a much anticipated snow storm moved into Colorado Springs. There's really nothing better than a weekend snowstorm that you can be prepared for. Mike and I snuggled on the couch, eating soup and grilled cheese sandwiches and watching a movie, the fireplace flickering. It was picturesque.


Little did we know that in the open space behind our house, birds were filling the trees. You see, they didn't get the news that a blizzard was coming. They had been lulled into comfort (or confusion?) by a week of unseasonably warm weather.


Nobody told the birds about spring snowstorms.


As the snow piled up, the birds sought shelter. That shelter just so happened to be our back porch. Overnight, dozens of birds gathered there, seeking shelter from the storm. We heard them chattering and swooping as the sun rose.


This morning, Mike called me to the porch to see the adorable little bird prints on the ground and the chair cushions. And the not so adorable bird poop that dotted the porch.


Those birds have been on my mind all morning. Every time I look outside, I see the trees in that open space in constant movement as the birds dart in and out. I imagine they'll visit our back porch again tonight. A shelter from the wind and snow and cold.


Mike and I believe in hospitality. Into opening our home to others. We want to be a literal and figurative shelter from the storm. And today, I have thought a lot about what that means. Because, being a safe space can be messy. Opening your home to those who are seeking safety and love means stains on the couch and crayon on the walls. It means piles of dirty dishes in the sink. It means difficult conversations and moments of tension. It means late nights and inconvenience. It means noise and mess.


But that is why we open our doors. That's why we hang a bird feeder on the back porch. Because it's all worth it. To be the home where someone feels safe. To be the place where love overflows. A place where all he enter feel known. Loved. Sheltered.


It's worth every mess. Every time.



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