This particular morning rather than anguishing over it and winding up just picking the lesser of evils and staying home (where it’s safe!), I went to my bedroom to talk to God. So, I told Him what’s going on. Why am I in such a struggle over this thing? Why do I fret so? What’s the matter with me? Then I just sat and waited.
Eventually, I became aware of the birds outside my house singing. I went to the window and peered through the blinds, parting them with my fingers and squinting into the morning brightness. “My,” I thought. “God must surely smile at these wonderful birds who sing with such beauty.” Then the thought occurred to me. If God smiles at these birds of his creation, how much more so does He surely smile at his children who lift songs of praise to him with their lives? I saw myself then as a small bird, cooped up in my house, a birdhouse of sorts, who does not come out to sing often along with the others. When I do though, does He not see me and smile at this bird of sorts who has joined his voice with the others?
I went to church last week. Perhaps the idea of my being a sort of Cuckoo is apt, but I for one am thankful that God is not finished with me yet.