So much in life is unpredictable.
And yet there is a certain predictability in nature. I know the tall tree where the osprey likes to perch and I know that sometimes, earlier in the morning, he likes the smaller tree, next to the path leading to the water.
On Sundays, I arrive at church earlier than normal so that I can make my walk and take my pictures before the eight o'clock service begins. And for that reason, this morning, when I walked down the path to the water, I looked for the osprey.
And like so many things, I heard him before I saw him. He let out a loud screech and extended his massive wings. So I kept very still and took many pictures, before I took one step too close and he flew off.
As I walked near the water, following the osprey's path, once again I heard something before I saw. I heard the wind, this time, before I felt it, before I saw it hit the trees. It built and continued building and even though I knew this was no tornado or hurricane, the strength behind it surprised me and frightened me as I waited for it to pass by.
Ospreys are fishermen and it was in another tree that I found the tools of another fisherman, a bobber and a lure and a hook, hung up in the branches, stranded and abandoned.
The stories things could tell if God had chosen to give them voice.
Perhaps that's a duty we fail at most in this world. No the bobber or the fish hook may not need its story told. But there are too many in the world, suffering, who need their story heard to heal. And there are too many in the world who have found salvation and have no way to share that healing with others.
Perhaps that is our greatest task. To give voice to hope, to faith and to love, so that others might know and be healed.
And yet there is a certain predictability in nature. I know the tall tree where the osprey likes to perch and I know that sometimes, earlier in the morning, he likes the smaller tree, next to the path leading to the water.
On Sundays, I arrive at church earlier than normal so that I can make my walk and take my pictures before the eight o'clock service begins. And for that reason, this morning, when I walked down the path to the water, I looked for the osprey.
And like so many things, I heard him before I saw him. He let out a loud screech and extended his massive wings. So I kept very still and took many pictures, before I took one step too close and he flew off.
As I walked near the water, following the osprey's path, once again I heard something before I saw. I heard the wind, this time, before I felt it, before I saw it hit the trees. It built and continued building and even though I knew this was no tornado or hurricane, the strength behind it surprised me and frightened me as I waited for it to pass by.
Ospreys are fishermen and it was in another tree that I found the tools of another fisherman, a bobber and a lure and a hook, hung up in the branches, stranded and abandoned.
The stories things could tell if God had chosen to give them voice.
Perhaps that's a duty we fail at most in this world. No the bobber or the fish hook may not need its story told. But there are too many in the world, suffering, who need their story heard to heal. And there are too many in the world who have found salvation and have no way to share that healing with others.
Perhaps that is our greatest task. To give voice to hope, to faith and to love, so that others might know and be healed.
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