Thorns

So, there we were, Dusty and I, on our usual route this morning. The Tabernacle Chorus swelling from the treetops, harmonies and melodies dipping and diving as the birds dart and flit here and there. Lovely, inspiring, as I’ve often written.

Dusty is rather an old lady now, (unlike me...), so as I waited for her to catch up I stood still on the path and gradually became aware of movement among the thorny gorse bush on the side of the path. 

A wee brown bird hopped from the thorns onto the barbed wire stretched there between two fence poles. Agile, adept, the indistinct and silent bird danced along the wire and back into the thorny gorse bush, apparently missing every danger of impalement. 

I’d never noticed this kind of bird before, and then I noticed there were two of them in there, popping around in silence, skipping round the barbs and thorns.

There are people in life whose voices or actions or beauty command attention, admiration and respect. But hidden within the thorns are the silent and undistinguished folk who are just getting on with it. Their talents, though considerable, go unnoticed, and yet they may be working in situations of danger and tricky relationships. 

We live in the age of celebrity, where folk are keen to be known for anything rather than be unknown. But nobody is unknown. Jesus tells us that the Father has numbered the hairs of our head, and encourages that we are worth so much to God. 

Though nobody else may notice the way you are skipping around the thorny issues in your life today, handling the prickly people and bringing peace into discordant situations, just getting on with it.... God the Father notices. He notices and loves you for it.

We don’t have to sing with the sweetest voice. We just need to get on with what God has given us talents for, to the best of our ability. And when we do, the angels sing and the Father rejoices over us.

Have a great day.

Who's that Knocking?

I turned down the lane before 8. The ground was still soaking from yesterday’s relentless showers, but overhead the skies were clearing and the birds raised spring voices in a joyous chorus.

I paused because the tapping of the woodpecker was louder, closer than I’d ever heard. We see them occasionally at the bird feeder, and magnificent they are with their stylish red splotch, and I often hear them at a distance, but never before as close as this. 

Dusty passed me, sniffing out bunnies and pheasants, wondering, no doubt, what had halted my progress. I just stood looking up, trying to see the woodpecker in the tall pine. But try as I might, I just couldn’t see him.

As we carried on, I tuned my ears for other birdsongs, and I became aware of the rhythm of each call. I guess it’s obvious there is a rhythm, for without rhythm, each bird would just staccato deliver its notes and no song would be distinctive. Each is distinctive because of the cadence, as well as the notes. 

Ok, that’s all pretty obvious, but this morning I just found it so refreshing to let my mind clear and just listen to the rhythm of the morning. I let the distant sound of traffic fade, the occasional blast of overflying jets pass without notice. I stopped talking to God. Normally, I carry on a pretty constant monologue with my Maker as I walk, bringing before Him all those I love and for whom I am concerned. 

But this morning I closed my mouth, and listened.  It was the sound of the feathered chorus in the trees that captivated me.

How often does God long for me to just ‘be’ in his presence. To listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat. To rejoice in the beauty of his creation. To be refreshed by him.

But I babble on. Sorry.