Purpose
I have watched, and am become as a sparrow all alone on the housetop.
— Psalm 102:7 (Douay-Rheims Version)
Last night at twilight, a large woodpecker lighted on the utility pole in the back yard. He made a few desultory taps on the treated wood, then scurried to the top and sat there, looking around, his magnificent head a flash of color in the ebbing light of a day that was on the edge of slipping into the past forever.
The bird began to sing, the sound an exotic, quasi-tropical series of notes as staccato as the ones his beak made in the weathered fibers of the pole. Ten to twelve notes, a crescendo of volume and intensity, and then he would fall silent for a minute. Then the scarlet head would tip back just a bit, and the song would begin again.
Usually, I listen to birdsong and think of how nice it is to enjoy a concert up close, as if the creature were performing for me. I tend to think that birds sing out of some irrepressible joy, a pent-up need to express their inner beauty through a song unique to their kind.
But last night, with my wife preparing supper and the dogs dozing in the peace of the evening, I realized that the woodpecker was not singing to show off or to express an undeniable talent. I realized that he was calling out to others like him. Calling out and hoping for a response.
And I realized that this is precisely what I am doing when I put my fingers to the keys and create a post for this obscure blog. I am calling and and hoping that some sympathetic soul will answer with a similar call.
After a few minutes, the woodpecker lifted into the sky and hurried away, over the woods to the pastures to the south. I watched him go and wondered if any of the little creatures remember any of us the way some of us remember them.
The softness of the twilight closed in around me, and the night began. I left the leafy and breathing world and went inside to be with the sweet lady I love.
~ S.K. Orr
6 Comments
Carol
I’m grateful for the “calling” you do in your posts…
It’s difficult to find simpatico spirits these days – your blog helps me feel less lonely.
I particularly enjoy ‘your enjoyment’ of birds – I’m fortunate to live in a somewhat wooded suburban area, so I get a nice variety of feathered friends in my backyard..
And of course, I love hearing about Jinx, as his presence in your life is one reminder to me of the power of prayer –
– which reminders are sorely needed at times when struggling terribly with my Faith..
Well, I hope the above isn’t “TMI” (Too Much Information) as my 22 yr old daughter would put it..
🙂
admin
Carol, I’m grateful that you read and comment here. Such gestures help me immensely, because we ARE isolated these days, and because it’s easy to come to believe that we’re alone, that no one else feels like we do, and that our little lives are meaningless. I believe we must resist the temptation to believe such things. I write here for the same reason I read and comment at other blogs — to remind myself that so much of this weird, dangerous life is beautiful and enchanting, and to remain cognizant that our Father loves us and is with us, even when it feels as if the opposite were true.
I believe that any thoughtful person these days feels lonely. Or “lonesome,” as my people say. The little “calls” we send out sometimes help others in ways that we will never be aware of in this life.
So thank you, Carol. And it’s never TMI here at Steepletea.
Annie
I’m blessed to have stumbled upon your blog. Your ‘song’ makes my heart glad, even if it’s melancholy, as mine sometimes is.
admin
Annie, perhaps its the melancholy that causes deep to call unto deep. To think that my “song” makes your heart glad is my reward.
Craig Davis
I’m always here listening to your “song”, even if not often singing back.
admin
Yes, and this means much to me, Craig.