Yesterday as I sat at our dining room table gazing across the pond, I had an experience very similar to something our daughter wrote in her e-mail to us today:
This morning I had to get up early to go get a mammogram (just a routine screening), and as I was grumpily walking to the clinic, the birds were all singing away, and I was like “How can you be singing?! Don’t you know that we are dealing with the coronavirus?!” And then I realized what a nitwit I was. Nothing like birds singing to help you see the long view.
During Lent this year it is easy for us to get caught up in all of the late winter darkness, the seriousness of this pandemic, which has now reached South Bend, the divisiveness of political fighting, the daily news that beats us down. Yes, we need to pay attention and do what we are capable of doing to prevent illness, to heal the pain, to comfort and care for one another. However, in doing so we must not forget to experience God’s good creation, to see the beauty, to observe the little things, and to stand in awe of the mystery before us. The song of the bird is one of hope, of springtime arriving soon, of the light overcoming the darkness.