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My pet finch Coffee runs into a serious problem once in a while. Her claws grow so long she loses the ability to control them. They get stuck in the nest and she can’t get them out. Once we found her nearly dead, hanging for hours upside down with one claw ensnared in her wicker home. Carol rescued her and nursed her back to health. We decided we needed to regularly clip her claws so she could maintain control of them.

I reach into the door and try to catch her while she desperately scrambles to the eight corners of the cage to escape capture. Once I do grip her gently in my palm, her heart races in a panic and she attempts to peck at my hand to free herself. I hold her steady, clip her nails, and release her back into the safety of her cage where she gleefully flies for months without getting ensnared. But when the nails grow again, we have to repeat the procedure, each time with her panic, pecking and distrust.

It’s sad when she distrusts me. Charlie, Coffee’s nestmate, seems to enjoy being held and stroked, simply receiving the care for what it is as we clip his nails.

I’m afraid I’m more like Coffee when God gets me in his grip. I fret and resist and at times turn hostile toward him as he holds me tight and gives me a trim. I wish I was more like Charlie. Actually, I’m going to try to be.

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