When Birds Sing

When birds sing,
listen for the return.
One may be joyfully proclaiming,
I'm here!
I'm alive!
Hear my song's sweet sound.

But more often,
there are many songs combining.
I am here!
Are you here?
I AM here!
What tells you so?
You are here, you hear me.
I hear you! You hear me.
My voice sings in your sweet song.

Grace

Last week, I went for a walk in the Kleinstuck preserve- a small sanctuary of wild life near my house. Half way around the loop, a side trail leads towards the center of the marsh, with a bench inviting rest.
There I stood, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders: A solo pastor to a congregation longing to grow. A single life in a soul longing to open. New to town and new to ministry. Things have gone well so far, but when I stumble, who is here to catch me? My friends here are mostly still acquaintances. So much to carry on my own two shoulders, and yet the wisdom of the earth whispers, “lay your burdens down! Rest in this beauty and this grace.”
And then, I heard footsteps behind me. Someone had turned off the main path and was nearing the shore where I stood. I turned around. A young man and his dog.
“Excuse me,” he said. “Is your name Grace?”
“I just found a cell phone on the trail and the owner is grace.”
“No,” I said. “But thanks for asking.”

Grace. Oh, grace! I forgot about you! Without you, the world is so heavy. One plus one equals two and there is no room for mystery, magic, forgiveness and grace. Everything in judgment graves.
The truth is, we reside in grace. We live and give home to grace.
A sweet kiss from God.
A gentle push of the wind.
The release of grief.
An opening of the heart.
A reminder of our deep, deep place in the family of things.