Three tiny beaks, constantly open, peeked over the edge of the robin’s nest.

Perched in a tree right outside our kitchen window, the bird’s nest served as a source of entertainment and education for my family for a couple of weeks this summer.

Day after day, with fascination, we watched the mother and father birds return again and again to feed the hungry hatchlings, each of whom at first looked like nothing more than a beak topped with a tuft of fluff.

With mouths gaping open, the little ones were waiting — always waiting — to be blindly given what they needed in order to grow.

And when they were given bugs too big to swallow, they just waited for help.

Noticeably, amidst the fluttering about the busy nest, there was an abundance of patient waiting — which gave me pause.

Waiting is hard

Admittedly, in our earthly lives and spiritual lives, waiting is difficult, whether it is waiting for a birthday party, a snow day, a test score, a college acceptance letter, a job interview, a baby to be born, God’s will to be revealed, suffering to end, virtue to take hold, or a prayer to be answered.

No matter our state in life, exteriorly and interiorly, we are meant to wait.

Why?

Because waiting — a form of surrendering control — perfects the virtues of patience and humility, which are key to growing closer to Our Lord.

Earthly losses

In my own life, I’ve been “waiting” through a season of earthly losses — the deaths of my beloved parents, the retirement of cherished co-workers, the sending off of my beautiful children to college — but with hope I await the growth of spiritual gains: a dependence on God alone for the graces I need, a childlike expectancy that He will provide for me, a sense of deep surrender to His will and the knowledge that He knows what is best for me and my loved ones.

“I am no eagle, only a little fledgling which has not yet lost its down,” said St. Thérèse of Lisieux in The Story of a Soul. “Despite my utter littleness, I dare to gaze upon the Sun of Love. . . I long to fly and imitate the eagles, but all I can do is flutter my small wings. I am not strong enough to fly.

“I am so happy, my dear Star, to feel little and frail in Your presence, and my heart remains at peace . . . For as long as You wish, I will stay with my eyes fixed on You.”

Spiritual gains

Once I learn to keep my eyes fixed on Our Lord and beg Him to convert my weak little heart into His own, I know that earthly losses can indeed give way to spiritual gains.

And like a tiny bird waiting with beak wide open in the nest, I strive to wait patiently for Our Lord to give me what I need in order to grow.