For many years, I have had a bird feeder in my backyard.  My wife and I love watching how, summer, winter, autumn, and spring, birds come to the feeder to catch a snack.  Although most are sparrows, we have seen cardinals, wrens, goldfinches, chickadees, and blackbirds.  All are welcome sights.
     This year, however, for reasons we do not know, the birds aren't coming.  Although we've cleaned the feeder, put in fresh food, and hung it further from our house, no bird has yet to land on it.  It's rather puzzling.  And disappointing.
     Granted, birds have ample food sources during the summer; they may not necessarily need a birdfeeder.  Life is good.  Yet I find myself calling, in the manner that St. Francis (Francis of Assisi) is said to have summoned birds to himself, to the birds, whoever and wherever they are, to come to our feeder.
     It makes me think about the Prodigal Son.  He had everything.  But he didn't hear his truest call.  He only heard what he wanted to hear.  Until he couldn't even hear that.
     It was only then that God could speak to him.
     Come winter, I hope the birds return.