Wait

As soon as I made it around to the back of the church this morning, I felt a sharp pain in my head followed by the feeling that the ground had lurched underneath me and that I was now riding an unwanted roller coaster. 

I've grown used to these types of feelings over the past two years.  I've learned to recognize them for what they are, harbingers.  There's a storm building in my brain and either a migraine or more intense vertigo is going to follow.

This morning, when it happened, I turned back around and headed for the sidewalk.  I was angry.  I hadn't snapped a single picture yet.  I was not going to leave church without a picture.

So I stood for a moment.  I watched as these tiny, little birds chased each other through the trees.  I took deep breaths.  I relaxed my shoulders.  I refused to let my body flood itself with adrenaline.

Okay, I told myself after a minute, I'm not done yet.

I began snapping pictures of the birds in the trees and when I got home it was this picture that made me smile.  There were two birds in the tree, but in the picture you can only see this one, looking up.

There is something so disarming in this look, like a child looking up at a parent, or a dog who looks up for the leash, or the ball or a treat.

Looking up says two words: "Your play."

In other words, whatever happens next, it's up to you.  I'm at your mercy and I'm completely okay with it.  Let's play.  Let's eat.  Let's go ... somewhere.  Let's fly.

I wonder sometimes if God sends us literal messages that we miss because we're so used to thinking God is complicated and only capable of communicating through symbols.

How many times since I started this project, have I had to look up to get my picture?  How many times have I had to wait?

We start slow when we learn new things and no one understands this better than God.