That's My Soul Up There

Last night I was working late and my bookkeeping was interrupted by a spasm of fluttering wings and frantic little footsteps. It seems a bird, escaping the freezing weather and biting wind had found its way into the dropped ceiling between the floors at the retail space where I have my little shop.

I tried to ignore it, albeit with a genuine sense of concern. But birds are smart right? He found his way in, he, or she, would find their way out. But my concentration was wrecked. My thoughts were wandering across the ceiling as the little bird erratically or perhaps systematically sought a safe place to spend the night. So there I was, staring at the oatmeal colored acoustic tiles of the dropped ceiling imagining that little bird. And then I was thinking, it is a bird right? I mean it’s not possible that it is some giant cockroach, all bible black wings and oil slick eyes, staring into my soul from the shadows? But as if to calm my fears, the little bird peeped. One solitary peep that sounded to me very much like a sigh.

So I sighed in response to the bird, and back to the numbers I went, forcing myself to continue shuffling figures to and fro until some semblance of a budget was achieved. But then later, as I sat with a friend in the ER (she’s fine) I was humming a Police song, “King of Pain”, and I was changing the lyrics in my mind. I was singing, “There’s a little lost bird at the shop today. That’s my soul up there”. It was late, I was tired.

But this morning, back at the store, there is no bird sighing from its makeshift nest in the pink cotton candy of the fiberglass insulation. And I am thinking that my soul, that I, am very much like that. Always running from something, the cold of disenchantment or the bitter biting wind of disappointment. That I am want to seek refuge in the strangest of places. And yet, what the gentle Spirit keeps telling me is “Be still, know that I am God, and that my mercies are new every morning”.

We fail. As humans I think it is what we do best. As a human, speaking for all humans, and a prime example of a human myself, I fail, and often. And yet the scripture in Lamentations 3:22-26 hit me square in the chest today. His mercies are new every morning. My failures are forgotten, the precious blood of my Savior applied each day anew.

So I am trying to learn to be silent. To rest in Abba’s favor and his tender mercies. I am trying to learn to trust Him for the money to keep my little store from succumbing to this “economic downturn” or for the wisdom to know what to do next. But I am still that little bird mostly, frantic and fearful, wind weary and shivering, just trying to get in out of the weather. He is not done with me though, and tomorrow is another day.

Boat sinkin’, bailin’ water,

M.