A finch zigzags from our window to the nearest tree branch–a large pine 30 feet away. The wind catches four downy feathers stuck to the glass–one by one they float away. A smudge remains. The finch clings to the pine and stays still. Stunned, it waits for the stars to clear.
Another finch lands on the branch above, it watches, it waits. Moments pass, breezes blow. It stays close, keeps watch and waits for the stars to clear.
They do, eventually they do. Looking around, looking down, the stunned bird recovers its senses. It flies up and away, with its friend close behind. Together they carry on…
I look at my life and wonder what matters more: the stunning or the “with-ness” that can follow. One snaps me open, leaves me vulnerable. Like feathers on a window, my innards spill and leave a mark. I fall to the ground and cling, stars settle in. Confusion, hurt and anger bellow. I stay still, I stay down, begging God to come clear the stars. The stars hear and rebel, they close in, my view narrows, then…they overcome, I cannot see…blind, I cling to the ground, begging God, waiting for the stars to clear.
Others see, others come. They sit beside and wait. They join me on the ground, begging God to come clear the stars. They see for me, like sentinels they stand and keep watch. They bring safety, assurance. I’m not alone, stuck to the ground.
Another comes. One who clears stars. Yet, He doesn’t. Instead He sits beside, puts His arm around me. He is with me. For an instant, the stars clear and I see Him, I worship, I weep. He gives me a glimpse of what He and I could be like if I let Him heal me, if I let Him clear the stars in His own way, in His own time.
Then stars splash in. Once again I am blind. I cling to the ground, begging God, waiting for the stars to clear…