Ruining Paradise

So, leave it to me and my overthinking brain—I managed to ruin my perfect front porch sanctuary.

If you know me at all, you know that porch is my place. It’s where I sit with my coffee each morning, listen to the birds wake up, and meet with Jesus before the rest of the world starts demanding things from me. Nothing fancy. No big production. Just a simple, steady kind of peace that I didn’t have to earn or create—it was just there, waiting on me.

But this year, I decided I needed to improve it.

It started innocently enough. I looked across the street and noticed my neighbor’s yard. They’ve created a full-blown bird paradise over there—feeding stations, birdbath, everything a little feathered heart could want. And just like that, I turned a lovely shade of green. Or as the younger crowd would say, I got a little jelly.

I started thinking, “Well great…now all my birds are going to hang out over there.”

And just like that, peace packed up and left, and comparison moved in.

Next thing you know, I was on Amazon, shopping like a woman on a mission. I bought feeders, bird food, a bird bath, and even a little solar fountain. I did everything short of hiring a skywriter to let the birds know my yard had officially upgraded.

When everything started arriving, I set it all up just right. I could already picture it—me, coffee in hand, birds happily dining, water trickling, songs filling the air. I barely slept that night, I was so excited to wake up and enjoy it.

The next morning, I didn’t even wait for my coffee. I ran outside to see if my little Eden had been discovered.

And what did I find?

Squirrels.

Big, bold, unashamed squirrels hanging off my feeders like they owned the place.

And just like that, the battle began.

The next few days turned into something out of the Hunger Games. I was determined to outsmart them, and they were equally determined to humble me. Gracie got involved too—my peaceful porch companion quickly turned into a full-blown squirrel watchdog. She’d bark from the window like we were under attack, and I’d go running outside to defend what I was now calling “my feeders,” like I had personally created the ecosystem.

We chased them. We shooed them. We celebrated small victories like we had actually accomplished something.

The squirrels were not impressed.

Like the Terminator, they just kept coming.

Eventually, I gave up. I brought the feeders in, shut the whole thing down, and sat back down on my porch…right where I had started.

Just me, my coffee, and Jesus.

And in that quiet, I started noticing things again.

I noticed my neighbors still had squirrels…only they were enjoying them. Laughing at them, even. Watching them slide down poles and perform their daily acrobatics like it was part of the entertainment.

Same squirrels. Completely different experience.

And that’s when it hit me.

I had taken something God had already made good—simple, quiet, peaceful—and decided it wasn’t quite enough. I tried to improve on it, manage it, control it…make it just a little better.

And in doing that, I lost the very thing I was trying to protect.

Funny how that’s been our pattern from the very beginning.

God gives. We receive. And then somewhere along the way, we start thinking, “What if this could be…more?”

So I put the feeders back up.

I made peace with the squirrels.

And wouldn’t you know it—they came back immediately. Still bold. Still messy. Still completely uninterested in my plans.

But here’s the part I didn’t expect…

In all their chaos, they scatter seed everywhere. And now, instead of a few birds politely visiting, my yard is full of them. Birds everywhere—eating, singing, gathering in a way I never could have orchestrated on my own.

Turns out, the very thing I was fighting against was part of what made it better.

I didn’t need to create something new.

I just needed to receive what was already there…a little more fully.

So if you find yourself trying to improve on a peace that God already gave you, take it from someone who turned her front porch into a battlefield—

You don’t have to improve it.

You might just need to sit back down, take a breath, and let Him show you what was there all along.