I saw a sparrow in my backyard this morning, and if I tried to tell you how much hope the little bird excited in my heart, you might think I was unreasonable, maybe even a little mad. A sparrow – one of the commonest feathered creatures on earth – awakening a spark of joy?

But you see, I spend the greater part of every day working at my kitchen table/studio facing the wall of windows into my backyard, from which vantage point I can see all the bird feeders I’ve set up outdoors. And among the myriad strangenesses of this distressing year, I’ve been troubled by the fact that, although they’ve been here in flocks in previous times, I had not seen one single sparrow in all these long months.

I won’t go so far as to call it an omen. I don’t believe the world is miraculously going to return to ‘normal’ next week. I think this winter will be difficult in distinctly 2020 ways. I’m sure we will all have to continue to adapt, to make adjustments we may never have imagined, and that whatever ‘normal’ finally emerges will not look like the one we remember.

But neither will I dismiss my morning visitor as a commonplace, a coincidence. I will hold on to this reminder of hope, this assurance that the One whose eye is on the sparrow is also watching me.