Memo from heaven? I wonder, can I muster what it takes to crack the code?
Two days ago, a mama sparrow alit on our window box—mere inches from where I journal and read the Word. She twig-footed her way over leftover holiday greenery and branches festooned with cotton bolls. Pausing, head cocked, she looked . . . thoughtful. Then wily.
Squaring her stance, she rapidly beaked up four or five mouthfuls of fluff. Then made a getaway.
Fortuitous comic relief?
Yesterday a chickadee zoomed in. Same drill. Another backlit, feathered visionary with a snowy Afro.
Here’s to spring, I thought, and resourceful females, part bird, part cloud.
Today, three scavenger-bandits flap in to pillage the cotton. Are these small acts of nest-worthy curation? Or a message?
First thought: update window box. It is almost Easter. (Plus, I paid more than I wanted to for those faux cotton bolls.)
On second thought: How pressing and universal the instinct to cushion, soothe, and provide for those under our care. A memory bubbles up: my tender, clever mother braiding my hair to close a small cut on my scalp—a wee blond nest of healing protection taking shape beneath her fingertips.
And just like that, I feel part of something deeper, more maternal, ancient.
A part-time caregiver now, I’m on the lookout for resources, wisdom, new ways to renew patience. How best to savor life alongside Dreamer, my beloved . . . without diminishing his dignity and independence?
These days he is deeply, heart-breakingly sad. My usual energies falter before his grief. It seems I comfort him best by sharing the strength God imparts to me, letting it overflow. In other words, keep the inmost well topped up. Then pass it on.
Healing is a moving target.
And aren’t we all keeping closer watch on dear ones these tumultuous days? Like spring birds, we prioritize nurture for those we love.
Long ago, when I was a nervy, forewarned-is-forearmed kid enduring sweltering days at school, I monitored hornets circling overhead. Every room had at least one. To dodge a sting I had to be ready!
Memo to current self: hypervigilance still skews focus, and it triggers twitchy exhaustion. To this day I tense when hearing a menacing buzz.
Because the sting comes, again and again. In many forms. No matter how fiercely we keep watch.
And God promises to keep vigil with us. No matter how long the process.
Where to turn? Like my window box needing a seasonal update, I’m scrabbling some, seeking fresh ways to lean into proven truth. Perhaps an update can encompass learning and relearning. To that end, I’ve personalized the Ten Commandments, creating a prayer to hopefully re-energize a heart for service.
Linger a little after reading the prayer? Click the sound file to hear Dreamer voicing his marvelous song “All My Days.”
But first, I give you the Ten Commandments as prayer:
You alone are Lord of earth, Master of heaven.
May I ever hallow your Name, your Word, and your presence.
Help me rest in your perfect grace.
Thank you for parents who did what was in their power to do,
who loved and led me the best they could.
Help me inhabit this day in healing ways . . . lest I cause harm.
Keep me loyal in love, patient in mercy, rich in wisdom, abounding in Light.
Keep me from slander, deception, and envy.
Nurturing God, suffuse me with faith and truth.
I am yours, now and always. Amen.
“. . . I will always have hope;
I will praise you more and more” (Psalm 71:14).
Friends, I wonder what’s cropping up in your prayers these days . . .
P.S. As to the insouciant moose that recently pruned our budding crab apple tree? And last week’s visiting owl commandeering the big stump outback? Head swiveling, she hunkered and glared: a fellow being on high alert. Hmmm. Perhaps, another memo to parse . . .
“All My Days,” Bill Klein ©1996 House of Mercy Music
Photo by Sies Kranen on Unsplash
Again, you speak to my aging heart ❤️
Dear Patti,
Thank you for letting me know. I am both grateful the post spoke to your heart and sad to imagine concerns that might weigh you down. How I wish—for us all!—comfort and grace and encouragement amid so many challenges and changes, some of them irreversible.
I’m so glad the words and music helped a little.
I saw your email come in the other day
This morning, alone, I thought to now read what you’ve offered
Timing was right
“It seems I comfort him best by sharing the strength God imparts to me, letting it overflow…. pass it on.
Healing is a moving target.”
This resonates
Affirms
Large
The song
The Psalm
Now keeps me better alone
Thank you, dear Laurie, and Bill
Dear Rick, I speak for Bill as well in writing, “You are so welcome.”
Thank you for reading and responding. It’s so encouraging to learn which lines resonate with a reader. And you are ever gracious to do so with heart and style, candor and creativity. Thank you, friend.
What a beautiful way of praying scripture, Laurie thank you so much. Very moving. Lovely to hear All my days again too… it is such a special album
And a very moving way of describing the great challenge of being constantly on the (hyper) alert for someone who is not always able to respond as he once did. I really understand that sense of being always on the alert – and my goodness what a potent example with the hornets!
Regarding his constant sadness, I thought you would be blessed to soak in this meditation on what Father Beck intriguingly calls ‘Bright sorrow, and which I have penned here on the theme of sharing the Lord’s heart.
https://ruachministries.co.uk/lots-syndrome/
I hope it will be a blessing to you as you continue on this journey.
With much love as ever from Malvern!
Dear Robert, thank you for making time to write this loving response.
I plan to follow your link tomorrow and immerse in your mediation. Your teaching and prayers, friendship and wise counsel over the years have been a consistent wellspring of insight and hope and inspiration. Sending love as well as prayers your way . . .
Thank you for sharing this, dear Laurie. What a treat to listen to the beautiful song your husband wrote and sang. His vocal tone is warm and clear. Soothing. What gifts he has poured out to listeners.
I appreciate all you’ve shared here, including your insight that, “It seems I comfort him best by sharing the strength God imparts to me, letting it overflow.”
Lighting a candle and praying for you both today~
Isn’t he marvelous? I’m so glad you were able to hear him sing. Still my favorite voice of all.
Thank you for that lit candle and the loving prayers ascending, dear friend . . . So grateful for you
What a beautiful prayer you’ve designed from the frame of the Ten Commandments. It brought tears to my eyes as you captured the desires of my heart as well. You’re to be commended, Laurie, for prayerfully serving Dreamer with patience, respect, and sacrificial love. May you sense God’s nearness, upholding you and giving you strength. P.S. LOVE that song Dreamer wrote and performed. Such a pure, mellow voice God gave him!
Dear Nancy, thank you. I feel your solidarity and sisterhood and am strengthened. I am so so grateful for your loving prayer.
When we dug out the old mp3 file and listened (first time in 20-some years . . . ah, youth!), we were surprised. Then amazed. Rather than feeling dated, the song seemed to rise around us, still the cry of our hearts yet seeming both new and somehow, timeless . . .
oh precious, precious friend…. you have been on my mind and in my prayers and voila! an update from you today. I have been wondering about your dear Dreamer and how the two of you are faring–what glory you bring to God by pointing to Him.
May Jesus’ presence be ever so ever more near as we inch towards the Resurrection. xo
Dear Jody, thank you so much for those thoughts and prayers!
And for this phrase: “ever so ever more near as we inch towards the Resurrection.”
You draw my present thoughts, ever prone to occasional flailing, back on track, toward the promise . . .
Timely and loving and wise. Thank you, friend.
If the prayer was not personally arresting, the song stopped my breathing. Made me weep. Utterly filled with truth for my beloved and me as well as history and prophesy for you and yours. Bill’s voice. So much said that prayer. That song. Thank you.
Susan, thank you for receiving the offerings and responding back, with bent knee and wide-open mind and heart. Your words will remind me on a more difficult day to marvel anew over what can be said, sung, shaped in the midst of the valley. I love you, friend.