Days unfold to the sounds of various birds chattering just outside of our room. They’re so loud, it sounds like more than are really there. I lay in bed and I listen. All is quiet, save their conversations in the vine that wraps over the pergola. I call it “the neighborhood” for all of the nests that hide within it’s thick, leaf covered expanse.
Lately, I’ve made more time for backyard sitting. It’s been my escape from the chores that wait to be done. It’s been a closet to whisper my struggles into the phone to a friend who lives in town, or in Florida.
It doesn’t matter what time of day I find myself out there, under the umbrella, under the pergola and vines, beneath the many nests and mama birds–they are never quiet. They twitter and peep–and lately, there is the sound of new life, baby birds awakening from their calcium cocoons.
Except for the four we found, ejected from the nest, strewn around patio and yard.
They always have something to say and I hear psalms as they sing. Animals who sing praises even as my own lips quiver to let the words out.
June’s been rough, busier than I’d planned, noisier, less structured and oppressive in all the terrible ways that word implies.
I’ve made the porch my sanctuary, I go out there to listen. To read. To wait for God to speak–
He is quiet right now–fully present, but quiet still. But my heart will wait. My spirit will rest in knowing that I don’t always get to know.
I will sit beneath that trumpet vine and watch for Him. I will continue to listen to the birds, whose praise knows no end.
(The song below has captured my heart, and I find it encourages me to worship, to sing psalms and remember His glory)
Can’t see the video, try HERE.
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