Little fellows like this have been rudely interrupting my beauty sleep of late.
A dawn chorus of cheerful cheeping.
A morning song rejoicing in the sheer joy of being alive.
An intrusion for an insomniac mind and body already depleted and bone-weary.
Who wants to be disturbed when a body just aches to stay in slumber?
Who wants to keep windows open to the sound, even when sleep and menopause-flushed enough to crave air?
Well, I didn’t really greet my little warblers nesting in the eaves with joy.
One fell from the nest. Landed in our garden. Was cold and still. Dead to the world.
On a day when we’d marvelled over the sheer courage of such a tiny being seeking out nourishment in the grass, in blissful ignorance of the two furry black felines lurking stealthily next door.
I found myself listening out with deliberation for the next morning joy chorus.
Only the sounds became muted and, pretty soon, the rest of the family sensibly decamped elsewhere.
I missed them more than I thought. Became sad at their sudden departure.
Mourned my heedless, heartless, impatient, irritable sigh as I rose stiff and cross to close the bedroom window against their sound.
Seeing the little one laying stiff on concrete brought to mind how not one sparrow falls to the ground without our heavenly Father’s knowledge. And He who gives them life, feeds and watches over us so tenderly too as, in His eyes, we are worth far more than many sparrows (Matthew 6:26 – 27).
And it made me think..how reluctant I often am to start my day, how hard I find it to rise and be thankful, to rejoice for the day God has made.
To see the wonders of life in all its fullness. To marvel afresh at birdsong, breeze and beauty.
As each new day means new manna, new grace, a fresh start.
What’s not to like about that?
If I truly considered His gift of life as one of purpose through pain, salvation through suffering, grace through daily griefs, then I ought to try to wake up happy too.
Maybe I could greet the dawn (or slightly later) with anticipation?
Maybe we can waken with a holy joy independent of our circumstances?
For each day could be the first day of the rest of our lives. We can choose to rejoice as an act of faith.
Each day is one step nearer Jesus’ return.
Every morning is a miracle of creation as God effectively says to the sun, “Do it again!” and He never tires of doing so.
And aren’t you glad that God sees potential in lifeless, dead things, sees promise in dark turning to light, sees joy in the midst of sorrow?
Dawn greeting may never come easy to me.
Rising early is not really possible with M.E and chronic pain (unless you count middle of the night) and I think God takes our very human weakness into account.
Though there are occasions throughout the year when I am lured to begin my day a little sooner with the promise of spending time alone in the Father’s presence.
It is always well rewarded, no matter how foggy-brained or sleep-deprived I may feel to start with.
Though, more often than not, my body protests and only seeks to wrap duvet closer and snuggle lower. To crawl back into that pit of oblivion and seeking of deep rest I so urgently need.
Maybe those times of early seeking after God will become more frequent with practice.
For now, I’m endeavouring to see the light in each new day as a dawn of possibility, a greeting to God, a nod to His majesty in creation, His calling to waken and be glad to be alive.
And to bow my head (knees don’t bend well now) and heart before Him in reverence and awe.
He is worthy.
Of broken nights. Early morns. Missed sleep. Bird song.
Of all my life as offering for the life He has given me.
For we are precious and honoured in His sight..and He loves us (Isaiah 43: 4)
And that fact alone is worth getting up for. Isn’t it?