If the weather-watchers are correct, we’re due for snow tomorrow and possibly more on Sunday. Snow in March isn’t unusual, but it’s definitely unwelcome. Arriving just as the world starts to sing its wake-up song, spring snow often feels like the last straw.
I’m doing my best not to check and double-check my weather app, though I’m anxious to know how the snowfall will impact my work-life and the kids’ school schedule. Friends online are sharing weather predictions with accompanying proclamations of despair and dismay. The more time I spend online, the easier it is to believe spring will never arrive.
But the songbirds, the ones who now make daily inspections of potential nesting places sheltered beneath our window awnings, tell a different story. Something in them seems certain of spring’s promise, despite the cold-again nights, the frost-filled mornings. Intrigued by their perseverance, I’ve been listening to them almost as much as I’ve been looking online. I wonder what it is the birds sense, something just a hairsbreadth away from my bumbling human perception.
The songbirds, of course, are not alone. The hens are laying like gangbusters, the dog and cat have begun they’re annual shedding extravaganza (Lord have mercy), and the tree branches bear red buds ready to burst at the slightest provocation.
This week I remembered something my Spiritual Director told me several years back, when my kids were much younger and we were cramped in a small apartment together all the dark winter long. There was snow on the ground then too, spring seemed like a fairytale – a nice idea, but nothing to stake your hopes on.
“Do you hear the birds?” she asked, as we sat together in her sunlit meeting space. “They only start to sing when they’re getting ready to build nests and mate.”
I took her word for it. I allowed the birds to sing hope into my weary-with-waiting heart and I too started to live like spring was just around the corner.
Maybe it shouldn’t be news to me that our hope, our faith, our love, are so easily influenced by the voices around us. But most years I need reminders, just the same.
Being a person of faith means living in light of a reality that may be just a hairsbreadth beyond our bumbling human perception and allowing that reality to shape the songs we sing, the nests we build, the future we work to bring to fruition. And when we grow weary in faith it helps to tune into the lives and voices of those around us who seem to hear and live a bit more clearly.
This week, Father Gregory Boyle, founder of Homeboy Industries, was one of those voices for me. Quoting from the prophet Habakkuk, regarding the coming kingdom of God, Boyle says, “The vision still has its time, presses on to fulfillment, and it will not disappoint; and if it delays, wait for it. What we all want to create and form is a community of kinship such that God might recognize it . . . It shouldn’t surprise us that God’s own dream come true for us – that we be one – just happens to be our own deepest longing for ourselves. It turns out, it’s mutual.”
If you find yourself also near despair - due to snow or otherwise - why not take 20 minutes to hear what Boyle has to say. His words point to realities just beyond perception and his life's work continues to bring the kingdom into fulfillment.