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

Transparent

Beautiful

Many-colored.

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.

Instead

They wait for me

To turn around.