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I looked out to a morning drear Nothing there to cause me cheer, But when I looked outside again Upon my gate there sat a wren. God bless this tiny little thing The wren, he now began to sing. He sang such a happy tune His sweet refrain dispelled my gloom. It was such a joyful song, My unwelcome dreary morning, gone. ~Gary Smith

I sat on our back porch just after sunrise. A wren came swooping under the cover of the porch ceiling with her beak full of fuzzy matter. She landed on the deck, hopping this way and that until she felt safe. Then she fluttered into a pot I had failed to plant anything in this summer. She deposited her fluff and swooped away. No sooner did she take flight before another, and then a third, repeated her pattern.

I believe it was the same wren whom last year built her nest behind a cushion on our porch furniture. We didn’t mind giving her the chair for a few weeks while she taught her babies to fly; our concern was more that Barley—our Red Bone hound who loves to hunt—would find them, and well…the outcome would not bode well for the wrens.

Again, this morning, I struggled with the location of the pot. I had recklessly left it in the center of the porch. I wondered if I moved it to a more nest-friendly location would the little mommas have to start building from scratch? I also marveled at how three or more of these little birds were working together to build a home for their babies.

More often than not in my life, I’ve tried to go it alone. Play Ms. Independent. It is so hard for me to trust and ask for help. Yet these fluttering winged things swooped about in complete harmony—joy even—working hard and seeming to take delight in their joint labor all at the same time.

“But ask the animals, and they will tell you, or ask the birds of the air, and they will tell you. Speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish of the sea tell you. Every one of these knows that the hand of the Lord has done this.” Job 12: 7-9

In my own healing—as well as helping others along their journey of recovery and seeking the abundant life—I lean deeply into nature. I find the very stones that sing God’s praises when I forget to, vibrate for my healing and joy as well.
Take time this evening—and every one to follow—to walk barefoot in the grass, listen to the cicadas, frogs, and crickets offer their cacophony of joy, and pay attention to how it will raise your own inner song within.

Love, your sister along the journey,

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