I remember the days I would just stand there and wonder. My life had been crushed by a most dreadful case of shingles that wrapped itself around my chest with its gnashing teeth. It left me in debilitating pain for months upon months until a year had come and gone and another year had begun.
I would stand on the porch, looking into the back yard, wondering what it all meant and if I would ever recover from such a horrid passage. And then one day I saw them. As winter turned to spring, they covered the ground in flocks. With great single heartedness, they gathered and plucked in an orchestration of dance among one another. A new season of being had come. There were nests to weave, babies to hatch and bodies to feed. Among them was a song they all whistled while they busily moved in harmony to the life force of creation greater than themselves.
I would watch them and revisit the seasons of my own life and the seasons of the universe that ebb and flow on the tides of time. Though there is devastation, the witness of the seasons hold the regenerative promise that love never fails. Even today, in moments when my heart grows heavy, I pause to remember and to listen again for the song of eternity in the heart of the earth whistling its love song through all of creation.
Season after season I am reminded again of its’ beautiful promise that has seen millions of years and has turned the pages of the great books of time and history each generation leaves behind as they pass through the veil into eternity. And creation goes on to begin again singing new songs. I can only ponder the magnificence of it all as my heart takes rest in the wild and beautiful imagination of God.