To Sing as the Birds Do

There’s something about the way the shadows lie across the grass in the mornings that tell me that autumn has arrived.  There’s a certain slant to the sunlight and an edge to the sky. Sitting on the front porch this morning and watching the sun rise, I wrapped my hands around my steaming cup of coffee and breathed in the cool air. Chuck and I sat in comfortable silence as the sky slowly changed from gray to deepest purple, then to lavender and pink just as the first rays of light appeared.

As soon as the sun is up, the birds begin to flock to the birdfeeders that hang from the trees out front. Finches and chickadees, redbirds and prairie warblers; the robins and bluebirds of spring have gone, following the sun farther south.  My beloved and I sit together, hands barely touching, listening to the music of the morning as the neighborhood awakens.

 Watching the birds flit and dart from tree to tree, I am reminded of God’s provision. They never wonder if there will be seed there when they come; they just trust that it will be there.  They return tirelessly every day, sometimes several times a day. And there is always food for them.  I could take a lesson in faith from them, and their simple trust.

This week has gone by much too fast. The clinic was closed Monday for Labor Day, but we had a full schedule on Tuesday. Dr. B was leaving early Wednesday morning for a medical conference abroad, so we worked late into the evening to see everyone.  Wednesday morning I woke feverish and achy, with a stuffy head and a cough.  I know better than to be around patients with a compromised immune system when I am sick, so I called in to work and left the message that I wouldn’t be in. Crawling gratefully back into bed, I never even heard Chuck leave for work.

I awoke later, when the sun was high in the sky.  Chuck had left me a cup of coffee in the coffeepot, a sweet note and his binoculars for bird-watching. I sipped on the coffee and dozed off again in the recliner, only to wake again and again from coughing. I was still in my pajamas when he came home that afternoon.

I attempted to work on Thursday, dressing and making the 45 minute commute to the clinic. Logging on to my computer, I continued to cough and sneeze as my coworkers began to arrive.  By 8:30 am, I knew I had made a mistake and called my manager to tell him I was sick and going back home.  Clocking out again, I rode down the freight elevator to avoid contact with any patients, out the back door and across the parking lot to my still-warm car. I had barely been there an hour before I was making the long commute back home again.

I spent another day dozing and waking and dozing again, coughing and watching the sun travel across the sky.  By the time Chuck got home from work, I was feeling well enough to eat the dinner he brought me. I showered and fell into bed just as if I hadn’t slept all day.

Waking again Friday morning, I felt better than I had felt all week. Fridays are casual day at the clinic, so I dressed in jeans and a soft pink-striped shirt. Dr. B was still abroad, so Dr. N was seeing all the patients in our clinic that day.  He is a quiet and kind man with the gentlest of spirits. His patients adore him, and if I were very ill he is the one I would want in charge of my care.

All the patients were gone by mid afternoon, and Cheri and I spent the rest of the day finishing up our paperwork. I logged off my computer at 4:30 and snapped off my desk light. Cheri was working another hour, so I hugged her goodbye and made the long hike to my car. Beginning the drive home, I turned up the radio and turned loose of the stress of work.

God has seen me safely through another week; His provision is never-failing.  Like the birds that visit my front yard, I go to Him over and over again, knowing that His grace is always there. I do not always do the right thing, or say the right thing; He looks through that and sees my heart.  And the desire of my heart is to be pleasing to Him.