One of these mornings I was sitting on my porch drinking my coffee, and I was just thinking about how beautiful mornings are: I love the colors of the grey light leading to the warm gold of the rising sun; the sounds of the birds singing and the leaves rustling as life lands and takes off; the feelings of the morning breeze and the dampness in the air from last nights dew.
In the stillness of the morning, one becomes aware of all these more subtle details and movements - our focus is much more concentrated because there are less distractions. We can sometimes become overwhelmed with all the busyness in life and miss the little things.
My all time favorite poem is by Emily Dickinson - Hope is the Thing With Feathers:
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
I imagine a small bird singing it’s soft, beautiful tune. In the morning it’s so still and quiet that the song is all you can hear - it takes your focus. I then imagine all of the distractions I have in life, and I picture that poor little bird singing in a city. There are people everywhere. Their heels click as they walk, their voices echo as they converse with each other or with someone on the other line of a phone call. They call for cabs. The car engines roar, breaks squeak, horns honk. Stores are opening: the sound of their metal gates rising, bells tolling, doors slamming, music playing, salesmen calling out the deals for the day ... and I think about that little bird trying to have his song of hope and encouragement heard in the midst of all this noise. Would we even notice he was there?
Likewise, in our souls, we need those times of stillness to really notice the details; to work on specific things in ourselves and become aware of what the Lord has to teach us, show us, and change in us. It is in the silence and the stillness of prayer that we can hear it. Do not smother his song, but take a moment to turn off the iPod, turn off the TV, shut the computer, cease pointless chatter. Silence yourselves and listen!
For me, this is the hardest part to prayer, and life in general. I am so focused on what I want to achieve and what I want to get out of life that I jump ahead of myself. I fear that if it doesn’t happen this very moment I’ll miss it and my dreams and desires will go unfulfilled. I have the hardest time just BEING, and I sometimes miss what He is trying to show me.
As I was mulling all these thoughts over (in the morning) I became aware of one other aspect of mornings - The emotions of expectation and anticipation are almost overwhelming! The entire morning is in anticipation of the rising sun - it does not remain unmoving! The stillness is not about remaining complacent, but rather it’s about focusing on the small details that will aid you in achieving God’s ultimate plan for you (which are our ultimate desires - because He’s so good and made us like that!). How easily these little things can be over-looked like the bird in the city. Sometimes those moments of development/growth can seem so long, and the future seem so unattainable, but the sun never fails to rise; not a single morning is ever disappointed. And when the sun does rise - it is one of the most beautiful views of all creation.
“O my God, my only hope, I have placed all my trust in You, and I know I shall not be disappointed.” - St. Faustina, Divine Mercy in my Soul 317
God's Peace!
Carrie
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