The Little Wren’s Lesson
JOURNAL ENTRY #31
TUESDAY, JULY 14, 2026
Just a few weeks ago, I shared a dream that has stayed with me.
In that dream, there was a little wren.
At the time, I wasn’t sure why that tiny bird stood out so clearly. I simply tucked the dream away in my heart, wondering if one day I might understand it a little better.
Since then, something unexpected has happened.
The other day, a pair of little Carolina wrens seemed to find me and greeted me from the backyard of The Union House of Hogarth as I quietly and excitedly watched them through the windowpane. Whether it was coincidence or simply that I’m noticing them more now, they’ve become a gentle reminder to slow down and pay attention.
Then I remembered something from that dream.
One of the little wrens had led my eyes to a weathered yellow garden sign.
It simply read:
Live By Faith.
The bird didn’t linger. It flew on, leaving me standing there with a smile and a heart full of gratitude.
That quiet moment inspired this poem.
The Little Wren’s Lesson
This morning,
a little wren
borrowed my attention.
Not with a song loud enough
to wake the neighborhood,
nor with wings grand enough
to stop me in my tracks.
Just a tiny flutter…
a hop…
another hop…
As if it knew
I needed somewhere else
to place my thoughts.
I followed from a distance,
smiling as it danced through the garden,
never asking to be noticed,
yet impossible to ignore.
It paused for only a moment.
There,
against the soft green leaves
and summer blooms,
stood a weathered yellow sign.
Live By Faith.
The wren flew away
without waiting
to see if I had read it.
Perhaps that was never
its purpose.
Perhaps it wasn’t sent
to stay…
only to lead.
How often, I wonder,
does God whisper
instead of shout?
How many answers
arrive on quiet wings,
wearing ordinary feathers,
asking only
that we look up?
Faith isn’t always found
in mountaintop miracles.
Sometimes…
it’s hidden
inside an ordinary morning,
carried by a tiny bird
that reminds us
where to look.
And once we’ve seen the message,
we discover
it had been waiting there
all along.
“Til next time.
— LHogarth
