Birdy, Birdy, Birdy

 

Almost every morning, before the sun's rise, I wake to the sound of a cardinal singing from the porch outside my bedroom. "Birdy, Birdy, Birdy." It is almost always the first bird song of my morning. 

"Birdy"  is the name my grandchildren call me.

For the past few months since my husband's death this birdsong has been my morning call to life. 

"Get up, Birdy. Get up and get out of bed. You can do this. You must."

Mornings have been hard. So are evenings. Heck, every time of day is hard. 

But I've always deeply loved my mornings. I've always woken with purpose and drive and fresh desire for the day ahead. Since Rick's passing it has been the strangest thing--perhaps for the first time in my life--to dread the morning. I don't stay in bed all day, but sometimes I want to. I want to pull the covers over my head and pretend this is not my life. This is not the road marked out for me. This unthinkable thing has not happened to me, to my children, to our life as we knew and loved it.

How will I ever fly again? How will I ever wake again ready to embrace my day fully? How will I even begin to face my future without my husband by my side?

Even through this crazy cancer battle I've continued to chase life and dreams and the new day. But now my bed beckons. My body craves numb and nothingness. Like this second picture, I desire only the doors closed, the drapes drawn and the mindless drum of rain on my rooftop. 

Oh, but for that bright red bird singing his loud song outside my porch door every morning. "Birdy, Birdy, Birdy." He (or she) sings my name. He tells me it's time to try. Time to get up again. Time to keep going. I have children and grandchildren who need their Birdy. There is more life ahead to be lived.  

God has plans. He has a purpose. He has promised to restore peace. He knows my pain and He calls me by name. 

Somewhere in our almost 40 years together Rick started calling me J-Bird. Birds were always my thing, but as middle age set in he caught some of the fever. We talked about birds a lot in these past years. He faithfully refilled the feeder outside our kitchen window almost weekly. Without me even asking. It was his thing. I filled it last week for the first time and felt the pieces of my shattered heart so similar to the tiny seeds pouring into the large tube. Somewhat contained in the plexiglass, but fragile and making a mess everywhere. 

God's Word tells us to look at the birds. 

Maybe that means to listen as well. 

"Birdy, Birdy, Birdy.”

“Jody, Jody, Jody.”

Get up and keep going. 

A new day is coming. 

“Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barn, yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” ~ Matthew 6:26-27

"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." ~ Psalm 30:5

I love this scripture reminding us how God sings over us. I especially love it in the King James Version.

"The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; He will save, He will rejoice over thee with joy; He will rest in His love, He will joy over thee with singing."~ Zephaniah 3:17

"He will joy over thee with singing." 

I hear their song all day long, all over our yard. 

Sitting on my porch yesterday enjoying the rain and 

the cardinal song,  "Birdy, Birdy, Birdy." 

Note: 

And, yes, I know the stories about cardinals and their connection to loved ones in Heaven. I've read the Frannie Flagg, A Redbird at Christmas as well as others. I'm not sure if this is how it works, but who knows, maybe! What I do know is that God tells us to look at the birds of the air. And so I do. I hope you do as well.