take me to your leader

Three whole bushes of sparrows roost joyfully up the way from me. 

Whirligigs twirl in the wind next to and atop the bushes in an empty flowerpot. 

The steel fence is a barrier between us whenever I pass by. If the wind comes along the whirligigs move fast, catching the wind from their precarious post. Sometimes I wonder if the playfulness of its turning delights or annoys the little sparrows. Maybe they don't mind at all, thinking nothing of it. (Do sparrows think?) 

Or maybe they are quite attracted and find the bushes to be a perfect place to roost.

"Who could get so lucky as to live HERE?" 

"Oh! The view from here!" 

"That spirally-thingy is just SO cool! " And on and on. 

They chirp as if they are all having friendly conversations.  What do their chirps report? I wonder...

Each time I walk by I muse about the sparrows. 

Why do they go there? How did they find their way? They are always there! 

Obviously, the whirligig can't frighten them. I  frighten them sometimes though. 

They either quickly jump deeper into the branches or flit about from bush to bush. 

Movement so quick. Choreographed so explicitly, charmingly, unique.

Trying to calm them I quietly say, "Hello, aren't you sweet today?" 

Yet, off they go. 

A few brave sparrows will find a way to stay; peering cautiously at me with one eye.

Take Me To Your Leader

oh, sparrows small and strong

take me to your Leader

show me Who has brought you here

please tell me of your song

do you sing because He watches?

do you sing because He cares?

is there strength for me so frightened

by the daily load i bear?

when you flit and flutter wildly

when i walk by and wonder so

still you cling to home provided

your Leader must love you so

you stay where He's appointed you

you know where your song will be heard

in company with sky and earth

your simplicity is strength, little birds

"What is the price of two sparrows - one copper coin?  But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without 

your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. 

So don't be afraid; you are of more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows." ~Matthew 10:29-31

joy unending

So many miracles. Just outside the door my chimes catch a breeze and the wind pushes the weathered and mellow sounding wooden center into six long aluminum tubes. From what I can discern the intonation rings a clear C, B flat, G, and D with an octave somewhere. Because one cannot predict the movement of the wind each day is a different concert (or no concert at all). Just like the clouds as they pass or the sun as it sheds its light creating a mix of colorful sky. When the symphonic wind hits my chimes they ring out resonating low tones as they catch something unseen. The wind invisible creates music. It beautifies the unknown. Atop the wooden center is still another miracle. White, crisp snowflakes catch a ride and sway to the music. Light catching light. Resonating and resounding a "joy unspeakable and full of glory." (New Testament epistle, 1Peter 1:8)

I don't want to forget these reminders. Heavenly heralds. Simplest expressions. Joy in this love unending.

During the holiday pressures of my job came such expressions. Into the stuffy retail world of the mall a few children passed through who brought the joy I so needed to remember. One day a little girl, maybe six years old, showed me her iPad. She made me a virtual-reality ice-cream sundae complete with chocolate syrup, sprinkles, and cherry on top while her dad sought an "upgrade" for his wife's diamond. In that stuffy commercial world I often ask, what is real? What do I really want? The love shared between a child and her dad seemed to reflect something real. And husband looking to please his wife seemed to resound a sweetness. And what of this child to stranger attention? I felt as though I caught something unseen there in those interactions. Simplest expressions. Momentary kindnesses. All reflections of a love unending.

Another quick reminder came when a little boy laid his head on the counter-top. Weary of shopping. Weary of wondering if Christmas was of any significance to him. He tilted his to one side and sang "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth..." His innocent voice mingled amidst the mulled holiday muzak. It was suddenly easy to see what was real in this quick comparison. The boy longed for rest. His joy in the season's celebration as well as curiosity about its authenticity created a glimpse of reality and reminder of the mystery of God's goodness. 

Then too, one early evening, a wooden nutcracker, reminiscent of the toy maker's gift to Clara in Tchaikovsky's ballet was laid gently, yet resolutely upon the countertop. I looked up to see a young girl. Head barely over the counter. Extra long lashes, rosey cheeks, all made up with long hair pulled back away from her face. Looking up I saw she was surrounded by mom and sisters. She had just danced her first Nutcracker ballet and came in to commemorate the occasion. Maybe mom remembered where to find it and so brought her little dancer in to happily chose her favorite. All of that energy, planning and practice spent to remember....remember...remember. 

Celebrate. 

Remember. 

Celebrate....dance....then remember some more.

Joy in a love unending.

Speaking of children and hope filled reflections, I want to share a good book find! Sleep Like A Tiger, by Mary Logue, with gorgeous, otherworldly illustrations by Pamela Zagarenski, is remarkably wonderful!   Lately, I've been visiting the children's library quite frequently and have asked if I can volunteer read. Supposedly, they might be calling me for Book Week. Having worked for eight years as an elementary school media associate I'm familiar with story time and SO long to read to children again! I'm hoping to find an opportunity to be involved with reading programs that assist children in their reading. It's not only the imagination captured in picture books that intrigues me, but also watching and enjoying the faces of those being read to. A story pulls us in and makes us wonder. We begin to understand more about ourselves as well as creation around us. Perhaps that brief expression and moment of wonder is another reflection of glory. The unseen becoming visible again. The joy unending that can fill our hearts.