Among the Bristles

We have a wild rose bush that for years lived along the fence in the shade.  It would bloom briefly for a time in the summer, letting us know it was there, and then would slip back into its role of using its sharp thorns to protect the yard from intruders.

Well, a few years back, I decided to move the small bush to join a variety of plants in our garden, where the garden bench lives.

In its new home, the bush has grown so large that it has become a threat to other bushes which look like they are being consumed in prickly branches.

Well, the other day, I grabbed the clippers and set out to trim back the bush to free up the threatened plants.  I managed to cut back a decent amount of branches, but then had to stop.  In the center of the bush is a bird's nest.

It is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his garden.  It grew and became a tree, and the birds perched in its branches."  - Luke 13:19

This morning, I went out to look again, and I don't see any activity in the nest, so I am not sure if it is safe to continue to cut back the monster bush, but the nest's presence is a stark reminder that what I want may be in conflict with the natural course of things.

The parable of the mustard seed that grows into a tree comes to mind.  This bush represents the kingdom of God.

While I ponder that, I ask myself, what about the man?

I never considered the man before.  That's because I was never the man before.  I didn't think the man might come one day with clippers or a saw and want to cut back or cut down the tree.

There is a message in here somewhere, I'm sure, but I'm not sure I understand fully what it is

If I hadn't transplanted the rose bush, it would not have grown so big.  If I had cut it back sooner, chances are, the birds would not have created a nest in it.  Which is better?

Now that there is a nest in my bush, I have to take care not to disturb the life that may be there living among the bristles.  

This morning when I went out to take the photo, the nest was empty.  Did I scare away the mother as she was preparing her nest?  I hope not.  

I may not have planned for it, but now that there is a possibility of witnessing new life and caring for it within my garden, I feel like an expectant father.  I'd hate to think I might have messed that up.