It’s from Isaiah and it’s apt on this Sunday. Many things in our lives are new and a little uncomfortable. I listen with ears trained on myself. My needs. My wants. Like standing in snow at the top of a mountain I wish this morning to grow quiet enough to listen. To see for miles outside myself and hear with greater clarity.
Until a few days ago we lived under the din of a murder (group) of crows in the trees above and around us. Did you know they’re highly intelligent and can even recognize a human face? They’re gone now and it’s snow kind of quiet around us.
We’re spending time with J’s dad and I realize how easy it is to caw a lot. It takes longer for him to form an association or sentence. We step into those spaces too fast…finding words for him, threading the narrative. J and our kids tease (nicer word, that) me for always being full of a million questions. In this place, the questions are ok, I think. It’s the space that opens after them that needs to go white.
