Wednesday in the Fifth Week of Lent
My soul waits for the Lord,
more than watchmen for the morning,
more than watchmen for the morning.
It is almost impossible to move this morning. In the dark, I hear a lone bird chirp. Once…then again. She knows it is time to welcome the day even if I am unsure.
As I reluctantly put my feet on the floor, I wonder if birds ever wake up feeling tired. Do they work late into the night, perhaps gathering bits of softness for nests that anticipate new birth? Or do their beings, which seem to respond to minute shifts in seasons, effortlessly balance work and play and rest? Are they ever unhappily wakeful at night, yearning for the moment they can first open their throats to sing?
I consciously push aside my lethargy, trying to focus myself for prayer. Lately my attention to the Lenten path seems to have lapsed. Am I tired of watching, or too tired to be watchful?
As the sky lightens, I see a robin perch on my windowsill, soon joined by another. Even as I lean in for a closer look, they hold their place as if to say, “We are here with you, because all of creation is watching and waiting.”