Saturday, July 16, 2011

Glass birds (redux)

Often dreams have carried the voice of God for me.  Sometimes I recognize it when I wake up, sometimes it takes awhile, a long while.  Today, for example, I am learning new things from the glass birds years ago.  Often God speaks to me in birds, in dreams, yes, but also in things like the tree full of cedar waxwings this spring, the hawks, the great blue heron in a particular pond on Irving Park Road near my house, and, of course, the ducks across the creek.  God uses different language, different images, to speak to each one of us.  I am grateful.  I will preach again on July 24th.  I know the words I choose will be heard in different ways by each person listening at 8 and 9:15 and 10:30.

Years ago now
I dreamed more than a dozen glass birds
Each one unique, beautiful.
They sat, nested
On the clear glass table
before me,
wings folded,
wings spread.
I marveled at the colors,
The transparencies,
Each one separate, beautiful,
Together on the clear glass table top.

Years ago now I asked you
In the dream:
What shall I do with them,
These birds,
This Beauty?
You answered
What do you want to do with them?
I replied
I could throw them over my shoulder.
You said
You could do that.
And again
Perhaps more thoughtfully,
You could do that.

Four months later
Not in a dream,
My sleeve caught
On the microwave door.
I pulled it down from the counter
on top of me,
The microwave and I
Crashed to the floor.
Four small glass vases
Stored on the microwave top
Bounced on the ceramic tile
Landed whole next to me.
I thought
I*m so glad I have been working out
I*m ok.
I thought
The vases did not break
The vases are still whole.
I marveled.

Then I remembered the birds
All the glass birds
The beautiful ones I have thrown
Over my shoulder
I knew the birds,
All the birds
Are still whole.
I knew as sure as anything
All the birds I have thrown behind me
Did not break or disappear.
They wait for me
To turn around.

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