Resting our feathers
Our canaries are singing this morning. They haven't sung for over a month. Their feathers have been scruffy and they've looked ruffled. And they haven't been singing.
This morning, I watch them coming to life after a cycle of transformation. When they were weak, sat on their perches and waited. And then, suddenly, they have started to sing again.
Several friends have recently finished their degrees. Some graduated with a Masters, a few have wrapped up doctorates. And they are tired. They're sitting on their perches with ruffled feathers. Worn out from the efforts, no matter how wonderful the learning has been. (I remember their exhaustion and the lack of creativity or vision from the year after my own graduation.)
"What now?" they ask. "I'm waiting for the next thing but have no strength to pursue it yet."
I look at the wisdom of the birds, who have sat still, hopped around gently, and eaten just enough to survive. I see how the plumage has filled out, how they are gaining energy, and coming back to life.
And I think, "Girls, that will be you. Wait to see how God opens doors. Rest in his provisions of food, friends, and time."
Soon they will be singing again. It's the way God renews his creatures and his creation, a Sabbath rest, time after time. He holds us gently in his hands while we are restored.
And then he lets us fly free into the next season. Thanks be to God.
This morning, I watch them coming to life after a cycle of transformation. When they were weak, sat on their perches and waited. And then, suddenly, they have started to sing again.
Several friends have recently finished their degrees. Some graduated with a Masters, a few have wrapped up doctorates. And they are tired. They're sitting on their perches with ruffled feathers. Worn out from the efforts, no matter how wonderful the learning has been. (I remember their exhaustion and the lack of creativity or vision from the year after my own graduation.)
"What now?" they ask. "I'm waiting for the next thing but have no strength to pursue it yet."
I look at the wisdom of the birds, who have sat still, hopped around gently, and eaten just enough to survive. I see how the plumage has filled out, how they are gaining energy, and coming back to life.
And I think, "Girls, that will be you. Wait to see how God opens doors. Rest in his provisions of food, friends, and time."
Soon they will be singing again. It's the way God renews his creatures and his creation, a Sabbath rest, time after time. He holds us gently in his hands while we are restored.
And then he lets us fly free into the next season. Thanks be to God.
