1000 geese flew over our house in a string of promise this morning. Not one of them looked backwards and their song seemed to carry them as much as their wings. A cold wind is blowing from the north and their timeless response is to get up in it and fly.
We may find ourselves in this same wind and, by singing, discover a new place in the migration of attitude and altitude. Worship is the prescribed antidote to worry, and music is its airborne journey. The sound of Spirit is the sudden rush of joy escaping the confines of anguish. To make art, to lift our voice in the face of despair, whether our fear is political or personal, is to give hope wings, color, and shape for future generations.
Real enemies confronted the authors of the Psalms. As terror rides rough through the blackest of nights shelter is found in the shadow of His wings. What was true in the days of spears and horses is true today in the age of cyber-bullies and suicide bombers. Our refuge, like the geese, is in a Good Orderly Direction.
We are asked, encouraged, to step out in faith, to get on the good foot. It might be to march in protest, it might be to dance, or it may simply be to get up out of our chair, go across the room and patch things up with an estranged member of God's family.
Birds going south marks a change id season. My prayer for the new year is our sense of direction be guided by unity, compassion, and a honking that fills the sky with joy.