Grounded for flight
Jolly, round, red Mr. Sun was just going to bed behind the Purple Hills … It was the hour of the day Peter Rabbit loves best. He sat on the edge of the Green Forest watching for the first little star to twinkle high up in the sky. Peter felt at peace with all the Great World, for it was the hour of peace, the hour of rest for those who had been busy all through the shining day.
This passage comes from chapter 31 of The Burgess Bird Book for Children by Thornton W. Burgess. I admit to sharing Peter Rabbit’s love for the “the hour of peace” — a time that is increasingly difficult to find in our busy lives. And why is that the precedent we proudly set? Why do we persist in creating hurry when we’re fully aware it prevents us from the important things? It’s habit, I suppose.
We can’t fly high unless we’re grounded in faith.
Earlier this week my middle daughter asked, “Mommy, could we have a daughter day … just us?” The question was simple but it spoke volumes about the state of her heart. She felt crowded or perhaps, lost in the crowd. She needed contact, reassurance, an hour of peace with me.
I took her to buy some new jeans — the girl is growing like a weed — and then we had lunch. Nothing special, nothing fancy … just together time in the car, in a store, in the drive-through of Taco Bell because that’s what she requested. She talked, I listened; we laughed, I marveled at her perceptive personality; and then … we sang. We sang louder than the radio and occasionally, off-key. But it didn’t matter.
Have you ever watched someone sing? What happens to his or her face … to her eyes … to the whole body? It turns upward. Faces lift heavenward, eyes close — almost as if the singer is gathering the goodness of song and turning it inward towards the heart. I could see it happening in my rear-view mirror that day. My daughter was singing and joy was filling her right back up. Her body relaxed, her smile returned and the sparkle glittered in her eyes.
To fly she needs to feel grounded.
… it was still light enough for him to see the sweet singer. He sat on a branch near the top, his head thrown back and his soft, full throat throbbing with the flute-like notes he was pouring forth. He was singing as if he were trying to put into those beautiful notes all the joy of life. Listening to it, Peter felt steal over him a wonderful feeling of peace and pure happiness. Not for the world would he have interrupted it.
Our Mommy-Daughter Day didn’t end with a fast-food burrito. We made another stop — this time to purchase a birthday gift for a cousin. While perusing the racks of colorful earrings and sparkly bracelets I came upon a bird necklace.
“His eye is on the sparrow,” I thought to myself. And only with God’s help can we sing as if we are “trying to put into those beautiful notes all the joy of life.”
Here’s a song for you to sing … or at least reflect upon. Perhaps, like Peter in the children’s classic, you will feel “a wonderful feeling of peace and pure happiness” steal over you. I hope so!
Have a wonderful, joy-filled week my friends. May your jitters subside and your glitter sparkle with brilliance. His eye is on the sparrow and it’s on you and me, too!