May 4, 2012

In the quiet of the morning I am alone here. Bible read, prayers scribbled in journal, second cup of steaming hot coffee, missing my husband who I have probably seen an hour over the course of the week due to work, and all is still except for the constant happy chirping from the birds.  From my desk, I can look to the window on my right and see the nest that was built with such intentionality.  For weeks those two birds built their nest in the space above our back yard patio speaker.  I see clearly the outline of it now--I hear clearly the echoes of those birds who came to life there.

Last year, around this same time, the same nest building happened.  There was all this anticipation of the life that would burst forth right there in that spot on our patio.  Sadly, I missed it. . .or it never happened at all.  I don't know which, but both saddened me. 

This year I resolved not to miss out.  Every person who was a guest at our home we would drag to the back door to look out at the nest.  Kids would stand on a chair, screen door shut to get a glimpse of an egg(s) that may or may not have been there.  I quietly walked out of the back door each morning, with a passing gaze up to the nest.  A simple acknowledgement that it was here. In my yard. I noticed. This time.

Mama bird. Baby birds.  Feeding Times.  I noticed it all this time around.  I'm so glad I took the time to keep seeking the contents of that precious little nest.  Three baby birds born in our back yard.  And we were all a part of it somehow. Smiling.

And then it hits me.  This seeking of God, my Creator, is much like this nesting adventure I've encountered twice now over the past year.  Sometimes right there in front of me, so obvious and clear; but other times I might have missed Him.  But was I really looking hard enough anyway?  Was I intentional about the time I was investing in our relationship?  Was I filling myself with His word, attending mass, consuming His body and blood?  Probably not.

In the still of the morning, I recall the lines to a song played somewhere in the course of my school  years.  (Thank you Google for helping me find it).

And then I cry.  This keyboard is hard to see.  It's so strange, so beautiful when He speaks to me.  So blessed to hear Him so clearly today.  To seek and to find Him. . .in this very everyday extraordinary moment.  Thank you, Jesus for opening my eyes, my heart to this love song this morning.  Thank you for these gifts in our yard.  These reminders that you are who you say your are.

 "So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you."  Luke 11:9