Your statutes have been like songs to me
wherever I have lived as a stranger.
I stand at the kitchen window looking out over the frozen yard. At first, all seems still, but then I sense movement out of the corner of my eye. A rabbit hesitantly emerges from under the hedge and makes its way into the open in short exploratory movements. Earlier this week, I had seen telltale footprints in the snow, but this is my first glimpse of his brown furry self. It is an odd juxtaposition, I think, that this wild creature inhabits my small urban backyard. He is out of place. An alien in a foreign land.
Then it occurs to me that perhaps I am the stranger, standing at the window. After all, he seems more at home in this winter landscape. And he knows more than I do about the change in the season.
I am a sojourner in the Lenten wilderness. While the journey may be familiar, the territory is alien each time. I have never been this way before. As I pray in the mornings, I reach for God’s word, looking for handholds to guide me along the way. Seeking footprints in the sand to follow. Keeping my eyes open for signs along the way.
So I cannot miss the sign here in my yard, a companion for my expedition. And as I watch, he is joined by a partner and the two of them leap playfully making me laugh. I did not know there were two. I had not expected such good company. They gambol out of sight, and my heart lifts with song.