Counterweights

“What are you doing up there?” My husband wants to know why I’m perched atop the kitchen counter leaning against the window. As I take this awkwardly expectant position, there’s no place for my feet except the kitchen sink.

My daughter walks in. “Eew your feet! How did you get up there?”

I assure my family of two things: I am still reasonably limber and I will clean the sink later.

I love bluebirds because Daddy loved bluebirds. In his later years, he created an elaborate setup of houses and feeders on hot-wired poles to ward off predators.

I remember Daddy with my own, though far less fancy, system for feeding and housing birds. Outside my kitchen window, sparrows, wrens, finches, cardinals, and warblers jockey for position at the buffet of sunflower chips, nuts, and dried fruit. For Christmas, my family gave me a window bird feeder. We filled it with dried mealworms, and the bluebirds arrived!

On January 2, an unfamiliar bird with yellow feathers, black wings, and a tinge of red atop its head visited the new feeder. As he made a meal of dried worms I captured photos and videos from my perch on the other side of the window.

My daughter and I googled and checked my bird app to pinpoint the newcomer. “Mom, I think it’s a Western Tanager. But they live on the opposite side of the country.”

Intrigued, I shared my photos and videos with a North Carolina bird watching group on Facebook in hopes that someone would help me identify the bird.

“It is indeed a Western Tanager. Quite rare!”

“WOW! Congratulations!”

“I lived in Wyoming and I am SHOCKED to see one out here!”

“WAY out of range!”

“Are you open to letting other birders come get a look at this rare bird for North Carolina? This is a very noteworthy bird and sighting.”

Very quickly, similar requests took flight. To my surprise, birders wanted to travel from various parts of the state. The Western Tanager, whom I named George, was a regular at the feeder now. Torn between caution and curiosity, I privately invited a local bird photographer whose work was seemingly legit.

Hosting a guest a few days into the new year motivated me to clean and organize! I scrubbed the sink (which needed to be done anyway because, you know, my feet). Since George visited about every 45 minutes, I assumed the photographer might stand there a while.

The photographer’s car pulled into the driveway on a bitingly cold morning. Peeking from my living room window, I wondered what to do while a young woman wandered through the front yard. Realizing that she wasn’t going to approach the door, I bundled up to step outside.

“Uh, hi … would you like to come in?”

“Hi - and no thank you. Where do you usually see the tanager?”

“At the feeder. From my kitchen window.”

“But when you see him in the trees, where is he?”

The trees?

Suddenly it occurred to me that my guest would not be seeing my shiny sink.

I marveled at two things: Her camera lens is the length of my arm! We’re going to stand out in the freezing cold for a bird!

Finally, George obliged and led us on a delightful chase around holly bushes and maple trees. My friend’s camera shuttered in rapid fire. She was absolutely giddy, and I too was breathless, but more from the frigid air and the, um, chasing part.

Credit: Pramod Prabhu, charlotte_nc_birds on Instagram

“He is the most amazing thing I have ever seen! Do you mind if I share your number with my friend?”

This adrenaline rush was so fun, what could one friend hurt?

Lesson: birders have lots of “one friend”s.

The neighbors started wondering what was (literally) up. I noticed them puzzling over packs of people roaming our yard with binoculars and related paraphernalia. Not a single photographer wanted to come inside. And they weren’t interested in capturing shots of George at the feeder. Too easy. Unnatural.

Funny thing - birders want to observe wild birds outdoors.

Now that March is here, George has migrated to who-knows-where since his GPS requires an update. I mourned when George and his fan club stopped coming. It had been so fun (surprisingly, as I’m a thin-blooded introvert) to get outside, meet new people, and look at the world from their perspective. One morning, when George was still here but acting shy, a birder asked me to hush up. “Let’s listen for him. I know his song.”

You know his song??

During George’s stay, I started taking walks without my AirPods and sometimes forgot to start the workout on my watch. Looking up and listening led me through winter.

One of my favorite authors, Shannan Martin, names and shares what she calls “counterweights” - things, experiences, or people which carry her through heavy, grieving, and confusing days. Whenever I felt lonely, discouraged, or anxious, a sight of my feathered counterweight reminded me that God delights in gifting His children with what they need in the moment.

The birders were counterweights too. They demonstrated patience, a love for beauty with the willingness to search for it in messy places, and acceptance. When George didn’t show, they persevered until they discovered some gifts. “Oh, look, a dark-eyed junco! A brown creeper, so cool!”

George may have migrated, but I’ve decided to carry the counterweight theme forward into this year. I’ve noticed and named these counterweights lately:

Elderly neighbors chat on the front porch.

My dog follows the patch of sunlight as it moves around the room.

The tip of a purple crocus peeks from the soil.

I think you get the idea, but here’s a definition of counterweight:

“A weight used to counterbalance another weight or force, providing balance and stability, and making lifting or moving loads more efficient”

Physics? Yikes - intentionally I never took a class in physics. But the concept sticks with me. Especially as Shannan Martin describes it: “A counterweight is anything that helps keep us upright against the strain of everything that hurts in this world and our lives. It means we acknowledge that while there's a lot we can't control, there's also a lot we CAN control.”

I reached out to Shannan through Instagram and asked if I could apply and share her counterweights framework as it fits the issues I care about. “I’m cheering you on!” she replied.

As someone who cares deeply for people who live with disabilities, I'm burdened by dehumanizing claims and actions which have potential to imperil their quality of lives and livelihoods. I struggle to discern how to respond. Anything I can do feels insignificant. Then I remember a principle of physics: purposeful, collective forces in the opposing direction can ease a load, propel a momentum shift, uplift.

We can speak for the image of God in every human.

We can listen.

We can step outside our comfort zones.

We can share our resources and our stories.

Whatever you care deeply about or feel burdened with, I hope you’ll join me? Let’s notice and name and become counterweights. I’m cheering you on!