I woke up early this morning to birds joyfully singing outside my window.
No alarm clock fog-horning the day. No urgent list of today’s to-dos or should’ve-been-done-yesterdays poking at me to get up and get at it. No craving for a caffeinated-kick-starter.
Just birds. And their sacred song of the dawning of a new day.
Maybe the birds were singing that this morning, like every morning before it, is more than a single new day. Was their daybreak song as darkness gave way to light an eternal invitation to find something bright and beautiful emerging in this day? Maybe the song was not birds at all, but rather a new beginning, now perfectly tuned and looking for a dance partner for a new adventure. Was that what was being sung outside my window?
Or maybe the birds were singing about the faithfulness of life. Were they singing about the gift of breath that fills my lungs with nary a thought on my part? Beckoning me out of a take-life- for-granted sleep and into a preciously held awakened day? Maybe the song was not birds at all, but rather gratitude looking for a body to clothe for a day — or for a lifetime. Was that the song I heard?
I wonder if maybe those birds outside my window were singing about courage. Were they singing about God’s care as we take steps into the new and unknown? Were they calling for trust and conviction to rule the day and for fear to be scattered and blown away like the dust?
Maybe the song was not birds at all, but rather a dream yet lived asking for risks to be taken, old habits to be shed, and postponement to be no more. Was that the song outside my window this morning?
It’s quiet now. The birds have dispersed to sit unnoticed on fence posts, and their morning songs are just a memory as the day now moves familiarly forward.
Was it just birds? Or was it an invitation from God? To join the eternal creation song of a new day — and to live.