“But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.”
"Little Owlets, God sometimes asks us to wait and be patient because He wants to teach us something important. Just like a seed takes time to grow into a strong tree, our hearts grow stronger when we learn to wait and trust Him."
The little owlets nestled closely to listen to the new book, and Hooty began to read.
The Mother Owl and the Lesson of Patience
High above the frozen tundra of Alaska, a mother snowy owl
named Selah perched silently on a snow-dusted mound. Her
feathers gleamed like moonlight, blending perfectly with the snow. Around her,
three owlets huddled in the warmth of their nest, their tiny wings fluttering
nervously as the cold wind whipped across the tundra.
The owlets had grown curious and restless. They chirped,
flapped, and peered over the edge of the nest.
“Mother,” chirped the smallest, Lumi, “I want
to fly! I want to hunt! I’m ready now!”
Selah looked down at her little ones, her golden eyes calm,
steady, and full of wisdom. “Not yet,” she said softly, her voice like the
whisper of the wind through snow-laden trees. “Patience is a gift, little ones.
You must wait for the right moment.”
The owlets looked puzzled. Patience? They did not
understand.
“Do you see the lemmings down there?” Selah asked, tilting
her head toward the snow-covered field. Tiny shapes darted beneath the frost,
their little lives weaving through the frozen grass.
“Yes,” the owlets chirped eagerly.
“Good,” Selah replied. “Now, imagine swooping too soon. You
might miss them, or worse, fall into danger. But if you wait, watch, and
understand your moment, the hunt will be yours.”
The owlets fluttered nervously, their excitement bubbling.
They wanted success immediately, like the warmth of the sun on the snow.
Selah stretched her great wings and glided a few feet above
them, landing softly in the snow. “God teaches us patience,” she said, as if
the wind itself had carried the words. “We cannot rush His timing. Even I—your
mother—wait for the perfect moment to strike. And even then, it is His
provision that guides the prey into my path.”
“But they that wait upon
the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles;
they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” — Isaiah 40:31
The owlets looked at each other, blinking in confusion.
“But how do we know when the right moment comes?” Lumi asked.
Selah’s eyes softened. “We watch, we listen, and we trust.
Look at the snow. See how it drifts slowly, never hurried, yet always falling
exactly where it should? That is patience. And God has placed His wisdom in
your heart too. You will know when to act.”
Hours passed. The owlets crouched low, wings tucked close,
eyes scanning the tundra. Their little bodies ached to leap, to chase, to taste
the thrill of success. But Selah did not move until she felt the rhythm of life
around her—the lemmings venturing too close, the wind falling calm, and the
snow reflecting just enough light to see clearly.
Then she moved. A silent shadow glided over the field, her
talons poised. With one swift, elegant motion, she caught her prey. The owlets
gasped. “Did you see, mother? Did you see?”
“Yes,” Selah said softly, landing back at the nest. “And
now you understand. The right moment comes, but only for those who are willing
to wait. Patience is not idleness. It is learning to prepare, to observe, and
to trust God’s timing.”
She nudged them gently. “One day soon, you will hunt too.
But first, you must learn to wait. For if you rush, you will fall. But if you
wait, you will soar.”
The owlets nestled closer, feeling a warmth beyond the cold
snow. They watched their mother with new understanding. It was not just about
hunting. It was about trust, preparation, and faith—seeing with
their hearts, not just their eyes.
“The eyes of all wait
upon thee; and thou givest them their meat in due season.” — Psalm 145:15
Selah spread her wings again, this time lifting the owlets
carefully into the crisp Arctic air. One by one, they flapped, glided, and felt
the wind beneath their wings. The first small successes came not because they
rushed, but because they had learned to wait, to watch, and to trust.
As the sun began to dip, casting a golden glow across the
snow, Selah perched once more. Her owlets circled her, full of wonder and
newfound wisdom. Patience, they realized, was not a burden—it was a gift. A
gift from God, woven into the rhythm of creation, guiding even the smallest
creatures in the vast, frozen wilderness.
“Rest in the LORD, and
wait patiently for him.” — Psalm 37:7
Susan Barker Nikitenko 2026© CPTBENANNAPBKBNMRMPMPAPAPASTOR #321345
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