Years ago, my friend, Ami, began referring to her people, her close friends and family, as her “nest.”
When I asked why, she answered, “because it’s my safe place to land.”
There’s some wisdom right there.
Last week, I sat around a table just yards away from a beautiful Dominican beach. Six adults gathered around good food, great fellowship, and a warm nest. For a few hours my man and I were invited in. We watched, we laughed, and we listened. And, we left that nest better people for the time we spent there.
Nests are people.
Your nest is another way to describe your people. Those souls gathered ’round that table, they were each other’s nest. Most of us have people, whether we realize it or not. Who do you call when you are happy or sad, elated or devastated? Those are your people… they are your nest.
Nests are not predictable.
Just as people are not predictable, neither are nests. Your safe place to land might just ebb and flow as your life does. It’s okay. As your nest changes, so do you…and change can be a good thing.
Nests are personal.
We got an invitation to visit that nest but not to stay. You don’t always get invited in. For some people, their nest is sacred ground…that one place where they finally feel safe and secure. It’s a place where trust has been earned and confidence has grown.
Nests are not permanent.
Your nest might just exist for such a time as this. People move, things change, and life goes on. Your nest will change with you. This is why nests are made of twigs and branches, not concrete and cement.
Nests are priceless.
You can’t buy people and you can’t buy nests. The intrinsic value of a nest is the value of the people you call your own. Honesty and trust cannot be manufactured. Often the people of your nest are people you have history with and history comes with time… not money.
Nests are not pretend.
While the illustration of a stick and twig nest as people is a bit far-fetched, the concept isn’t. We need people and people need us. We can pretend to be self-sufficient, but most of us are not. We need a safe place to land.
Nests are proportional.
Each of us are different with different needs and wants. I’m an extrovert. I have a large nest. My friend, Julie, is an introvert’s introvert. Her nest is small and tidy. Some days I envy her neat and tidy nest because mine tends to overflow with sticks and twigs shoved here and there to make room. The beautiful thing? Our nests fit us.
The books of Matthew (8:20) and Luke (9:58) tell us that the Son of Man had no where to lay his head. No home, no bed, no pillow. Yet, I would venture to say that Jesus, Himself, had a nest… a safe place to land. He had twelve hand-picked disciples who followed Him at all costs, day-in and day-out for 3 years of demanding ministry. And, when His time had come, only Jesus and those twelve gathered around a table in an upper room for His last supper.
A few years ago, I lamented to Ami that my nest was changing, it wasn’t the same. I wanted to tie my people down and weave the sticks and twigs of my nest tighter. That wise one smiled gently and said, “your nest might look different with different faces and different personalities, but the basic premise is the same… it’s your safe place to land.”
Have you been flying solo for a long time looking for a safe place to land? A place to rest and restore?
Have you ignored your own nest and worn yourself out flying around nests that you envy? Nests you wish you were a part of?
Here’s the thing. That nest I described on the Dominican Beach? It’s a relatively new nest and was formed when two families arrived on the same mission field within months of one another. You never know when the very next person you meet will become one of the dearest people in your nest. In the meantime, I would venture to say your nest of your people is just about the safest place you could land.
Nests are good. Nests are right. And, for some of us, nests are downright necessary… sticks, twigs, and all.