Yesterday, I took Hilary to a nature class at one of our city's lovely parks. We try to explore as many of the different nature centers as possible that were so wisely laid out before urban sprawl swallowed every green thing into its stifling grip. Many of them have monthly classes for preschoolers that we enjoy. This was at one of my favorite nature centers. It's a teeny lodge in the depths of the forest, a lengthy distance from our house, but always worth it. The craftsmanship is inspiring, the setting is perfection, and on a sentimental note, it smells just like the log cabin we stayed in on our honeymoon. One end of the narrow building is nothing but glass, looking out on a collection of bird feeders.
I love looking at birds. So many different reasons why their grace and dainty determination speak to me. I was drawn to the window especially yesterday, since we have been having a bird drought at our own feeders. I don't think we could even pay a bird to come to our house, for reasons I haven't quite figured out. We have three different feeders for winter birds, arranged in appealing, squirrel-proof places. There's a birdhouse that my landlords put up long ago, and when spring comes, we'll have multiple sets of babies born there, but now...no birds. Maybe it's the traffic of the busy road on the other side of the trees. Maybe all my neighbors have fancier birdseed. Whatever it is...they won't come. Jared and I were going to do a year long study of ornithology. We were looking forward to bird walks and tracking visitors to our backyard. We've counted birds in the past for a national effort to track numbers and species, and we thought we'd do that again. I canceled the study. I didn't want to skew their results by making it look like all birds had mysteriously vanished from existence in Northeast Ohio.
Jared tagged along to Hilary's class, so he and I watched the birds together with delight. So many different species. So many birds! We smiled at the chickadees darting from feeder to feeder. We laughed at the mourning dove who crashed the party of all the smaller birds and pushed everyone else out of the way with his lumbering girth. Jared commented on the voracity with which these birds were eating. They were eating like this was their last meal. Like they didn't know good and well that they could come here anytime. Like their lives depended on it.
As I watched the birds and their near frantic determination, I answered him that they were just doing what birds are designed to do. A single, focused mission to stay alive. To eat when fuel is available to fight against the frigid temperatures. To just do what God intended birds to do.
From that moment, I was sucked into their world. I watched their faces, their steps, and their purpose. What would my life be like if all I did was concentrate on what God meant ME to do? What would be different in a day filled not with means of my own diversion, but rather with purpose and an underlying, driving force to get the fuel to survive?
I am human and...oh, about a million times more intelligent than a bird. I have a soul. Therefore, I can't make a direct comparison between the two of us. I know this. But bear with me in the analogy for a minute. At that moment, I felt that even though I may be higher up on the food chain, those birds are way smarter than me.
I get distracted. I get tangled in meaningless passions that skew my life. Even when I try to repent and change my ways, I end up right back where I started. I live like I don't know where to go. Like I don't know what God meant for me to do.
God intends us to spend our lives drawing closer to Him. To seek him out in a forest of distractions. To fill ourselves full of Him. Like its our last meal. Like our lives depend on it. Why then, do I settle for junk food that may satisfy me for a time with its ooey-gooey goodness, but quickly leaves me crashed in a heap of emptiness? Why then, do I turn my back on the shelter of stability and fly around in the dark and uncertainty, only to see that while I changed, He's just where He always has been? Why do I think I know better than the One who designed me to be me and not a bird or a fish or any kind of animal? Those birds were made to be birds, and they do it well. I was made in the image of God to be like God, and I'm awful at it!
Life is work. It's so easy to just get off the path. To live like I forget my purpose. There are things I will do in my life. Things I will accomplish. Those things are wonderful. They mean nothing, though, if I live my life and don't live it with God.
As Orthodox, we don't believe in a secular world. There's no separation between our spiritual life and the rest of life. Life is life, and every moment can be filled with God. Heaven and earth are not separated into different, neat compartments. This is the kingdom here and now everywhere you look, and blessed is that kingdom.
I left the nature center and filled my lungs with the chilly air. I thought about the rest of my afternoon. I had to drive home, get Hilary down for her nap, and watch a documentary for school with Jared. Not the most newsworthy day! Nothing that sounded all that meaningful. As I drove home, I thought about how I could do each of those things like a bird. With purpose. Without distraction.
I could choose not to lose my temper with Hilary. I could give Jared my full attention. I could pray, and pray, and pray while sanctifying the time...simple and ordinary time. It's hard to stay in that state of sanctification and not drift back into "regular" life, though. Where life is life and God is God, and they don't always mix. Not that we're out there purposely trying to push God out of the small moments, but let's face it...day to day life can be pretty dull. It isn't all mountaintop spiritual moments. It isn't flashy. It doesn't seem like much to bother involving God in.
Life is simple and complicated and dirty and downright boring sometimes. It's achingly routine and normal. It's easier to remember God in the big moments of joy and sorrow. It's easier to reach to Him in the extremes. To find Him in the small and boring stuff...that can be hard. It's way too tempting to lose focus. To get caught up in things that are too great and too marvelous for me. When I do that, I miss a great opportunity. The opportunity to redeem those small, simple moments and claim them for God. The opportunity to just be a bird and be what I am meant to be.
When I don't do that, I'm just wasting time...
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