February 4 – “The Bird”

I saw a bird today.  I know.  I can hear the "Woo-hoo-ing" from here.  OK, for most of the world that is not such a big treat.  But this particular bird was in my back yard.    See, I spent the morning working on our income tax.  At least on what records we have left to work on.  We have pretty extensive documentation from about, oh, September 14th on.  We have been very careful to track everything since the storm.  Before then we have medical records that we evacuated with and that's about all.  I'm not even sure what kind of stuff I should be gathering related to our losses.  I checked our accountant's website, and the only place even close to "losses from a hurricane-related flood" is "Other."  I guess I'll have to make a phone call.  Woo-hoo.   Mom and Chris had a Wednesday Club meeting this afternoon.  They get together with a bunch of other ladies get together and report on different things.  This year they are doing "Flowers of Texas."  Anyway, Wednesday Club days are when I try to do things like get a haircut.  So that's what I did.  Got a haircut.  Woo-hoo.   So that's what my day had been like when I arrived at our house.  I was anticipating a house full of plumbers.  But there was no one.  Had been no one.  A perfect end to a truly woo-hoo day.  I went through the empty hull to the backyard.  Maybe there was something I could do for an hour or so that would get me out of the woo-hoo doldrums.  I moved some boards from one side of the yard to the other.  Picked up some trash.  Brought the trash can off the street.  That's right.  Woo-hoo.  After another trip to that trash can, I stopped in front of our leaf-less fig bush and looked up into the naked branches of our magnolia tree and the bleak tips of our pecan tree.  "What's gonna happen, Lord?" I thought.  "Is it ever going to be green again?  Will these trees go the way of the other six we have cut down so far?"  As my sad gaze fell slowly toward the lower branches of the fig bush, I heard a faint sound.  A knocking.  A rapping at my fig tree's core.  I stood as still as I could until I located its source.  There, about mid-bush, was a woodpecker.  Now, it definitely was not Woody.  This guy had no red head.  His was more white with a black Mohawk and a Zorro mask across his eyes.  Not ugly.  Just not redheaded.  And he (or she, I guess) was beating that head over and over again against the tree, even in the presence of the huge hulk of a me standing nearby.  Then a mocking bird landed.  I've seen mocking birds at work against cats.  Great dive bombers.  This had to be the end of the woodpecker's focus.  But no.  Then another mocking bird showed up.  This one noticed me, though.  He bounced along the top of the fence until he was about four feet away.  Then he gave me that cock-eyed, sideways, bird-head stare that said, "What kind of tree are you?"  And the woodpecker?  Smacking his head over and over.   I pondered what possible deep spiritual truth could I be standing in front of.  Was this the cryptic answer to my woo-hoo day dilemma?  Well, in a way I guess.  What did I derive from this rare glimpse into the secrets of nature?  To be honest … sometimes the answer is just not there when you want it to be.  Sometimes you just have to keep hanging in there – even if it feels like you're knocking your head against a tree over and over – even if a huge, ugly "what kind of tree are you?" is looming over you – even if that one mocking bird that really gets your goat shows up and refuses to leave.  Sometimes it's time to … keep going.  To not give up.  And to wait. I think in that faint tap, tap, tapping at my fig bush door, I was hearing a voice all right.  But it was more like the voice Job heard in chapter 38:2-7. "Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge?  Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me.   "Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation?  Tell me, if you understand.  Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!  Who stretched a measuring line across it?  On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone— while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?"   Father, I'm sorry I get so frustrated and impatient.  Enough said.  I'll wait.  Amen.