It Is Seasonal

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven...
Ecclesiastes 3:1

The other day, I was out for my walk, going along one of my favorite routes. This route is alongside a pretty major road in town, and it leads to a major intersection. As I approached this intersection, I noticed a bunch of birds up on the wires above the intersection. As I got to the intersection, I found myself walking on their shit.

This shit, like so much other shit, is seasonal.

These birds only sit up on these wires in the Fall. I guess the winds are just right and bring those yummy bugs right to them, or something, but for whatever reason, there are the birds, up high on the wires, every Fall. And their shit lands below.

I began to think about the seasonal shit and how the seasons change in our lives. Some seasons are beautiful, wonderful, and full of all kinds of love and peace and harmony. And some seasons are covered in shit.

Notice I said they are "covered in shit" - not that they actually are shit. There's a huge difference. Sometimes, the beauty and wonder and love are still there, but they get encrusted, much like the sidewalks under the birds on the wires. Some seasons in our lives, we have to look through the shit in order to find the beauty or wonder or love underneath.

This is not a fun task, friends. It's icky and hard and takes some work and effort - and isn't it just easier to walk a different route for a while, avoiding the shit altogether? Well, of course it's easier. But where on earth did we ever get the idea that easier is always better?!

Sometimes easier is better. Easier is better when we are trying to be efficient, for instance. But easier doesn't always mean that we will learn as much as when something is difficult. Easier doesn't always mean that we will grow as strong as when something is difficult. Difficulty can be really shitty, but it is in difficulty that we learn how to be creative, how to persevere, how to find hope. It is in difficulty that we discover that we are stronger than we ever imagined. It is in difficulty that we learn to trust God.

When I was on internship, I had a parishioner - a retired pastor - who kept goats. One day, he and his wife had us over for lunch. He then invited me to take a stroll out in the goats' area - specifically, to walk in a circle in the area where all the goats would shit. And then he looked at me and said, "Sometimes, you're gonna have to walk through shit, and I wanted you to have some first hand experience."

How I wish every season was free of shit. But shit happens. Strap on some good shoes, and crunch on through. God is with you.

In Which a Potato Flips Us Off

Dinner tonight had a message. Apparently.

In the never-ending quest to Eat at Home More, Hubby called me today wondering what he should pick up for dinner. He perused the meat department with me on the phone and we settled on steaks on the grill. Knowing we had various frozen potato options in the freezer that needed to get used, plus plenty of frozen veggies, steak seemed like a good fit overall. Nothing tastes like a good grilled steak, and Hubby can grill a steak, baby.

I pulled out the variety of frozen potatoes and spread them out on the baking sheet and this one caught my eye. Doesn't it look like it's flipping you off? If you disagree, flip the bird with your right hand, palm up, and hold your hand next to the photo.

OK. 

I called Hubby over to check it out, as if instead of a flipping-the-bird waffle fry, I had instead found an image of Jesus or Mary or St. Bartholomew. "Look!" I said, excitedly. "Do you see what I see?"

Hubby immediately picked up the fry and turned it around. Because apparently no one really likes being flipped off, even if it's by a waffle fry.

I started thinking about the waffle fry flipping me the bird and I thought, "You know, that's sort of what  it feels like carbs do to me now that I'm diabetic - they flip me off." 

WORK WITH ME, PEOPLE. 

My whole eating life now revolves around these damn carbs. How many? Too many? Not enough? What kind are they? Etc. etc. etc. Sometimes, it seems like the carbs are winning, running around me in circles like an impetuous child who's just learned how to flip someone off. 

But - haha, carbs! Not tonight. Tonight, I gave you and your middle finger to Hubby, and I enjoyed a few of a non-middle-fingered variety of potato. Plus some veggies. And a damn good steak.

Sing me to heaven...

Adding their song...

The story of our little birds continues...

Today, I have heard them adding their song - noisy, urgent chirping - to the cacophony of birdsongs around us. There is something beautifully fitting to me about hearing their song for the first time today because I found out a little while ago that a dear friend and wonderful musician died last night.

Ashlyn was one of my piano teachers in college. Ever patient, ever encouraging, she brought joy to playing the piano that I had never had before. I wasn't her best student - nowhere even close - in terms of ability, but she encouraged me anyway. Beyond that, she challenged me to think always in terms of the Bigger Picture. It was Ashlyn that introduced me to a wider world of music - music as ministry to people's souls. As I grew as a choral conductor and as a minister of music, Ashlyn was one of many who stood beside me - or, more accurately - followed my lead while sitting at a piano or organ console.

Much like the birds today, giving me their new song, Ashlyn gave me my song, in many ways. I had never felt very confident musically before knowing her. I had never felt very brave. She was one who instilled both confidence and bravery in me - drawing them out from...someplace.

And now, she is gone. I am left weeping for the void, weeping because she was truly one of the most beautiful people I have ever known, weeping because her earthly song has been silenced.

Joy will come in the morning because we teach and believe and confess that at the grave, we make our song, "Alleuia! Praise the Lord!" Even at the grave, we are led to words of praise - words that seem strange coming from trembling lips - words that seem raw upon our hurting hearts. Thank God that he hears our hurting cries and our angry cries before the cries of praise come forth.

Joy will come in the morning.

Little beaks, wide open...

The wonder continues...

Here's the nest, as it was yesterday:

Cute, fuzzy finch chickies.

So, just now, I went out to check (in the process, pissing off Mama Finch once again...sorry!) and here's what today brought:

Little beaks, wide open.

 Little beaks, wide open.

Amazing. Amazing. Amazing.




[To read and/or listen to a sermon I preached about this, click here to visit my professional blog.]

Tiny. Colorful. Quietly present.

The eggs on May 5th...

These photos have nothing whatsoever to do with diabetes. I could make them fit somehow if I tried, but - let's face it - I've got a Pentecost sermon percolating for Sunday, so let's just be content with the following, shall we...?

A couple of weeks ago, I noticed a finch hanging out more at one of our hanging plants on our back porch. I've seen this before, and, sure enough, I found this beautiful nest nestled in one of the dianthus plants. Mama Finch has been so very attentive. The eggs were beautiful. Tiny. Colorful. Quietly present.

I've been carefully checking on their status ever since, all while Mama Finch sat on a nearby fence and fretted. 

Today, I went out quickly to check and was startled to find:

Finches hatching on May 16th!

I say I was startled, but mostly I was overwhelmed with the joy of such a sight. As beautiful as those eggs were, these little fuzzy creatures are more beautiful (in a fuzzy, scrawny creature kind of way). Soon, there will be great twittering and squeaking. Soon, there will be feedings and lots of fluttering about. Soon, there will be another empty nest in our nearly-dead hanging plant (we have another empty nest in a nearby plant). 

And, to me, it's all just...

Incredible.