I have never been very good at praying.
I do plenty of it. I’m just not eloquent at it. Don’t ask me to lead a prayer in a group. I won’t have the right words.
I try not to pray out of fear, but often the self-talk that is my prayer sounds like I am pleading for a good outcome for the people I love. I raise their names to God and trust that it brings them and me closer to the great, benevolent energy that holds all things together.
In the last few months, I have come to realize that my heart’s most profound prayers are not always articulated with words. Rather, they are simply felt when I am outside with birds.
Two years ago, our friend Gilbert gave me a suet feeder as a gift.
I was touched by his kindness and excited to get back into feeding birds, something I hadn’t done for decades.
Jimmy put it up on our back porch, and we immediately began to attract wrens, warblers, cardinals, downy woodpeckers and Eastern bluebirds.
Gilbert’s gift led to more feeders, a bluebird house, a solar bird bath and a Sony camera I would use to capture the many moments of winged grace that now appeared in each day.
His gift also led me toward stillness. Once I had birds in my backyard and in my life, I finally started to let go of work, worry and obsession. I would come home, throw on a t-shirt and shorts, grab my camera and go outside to see what beauty I could find—and simply be present with it.
Watching and listening to a rufous-sided towhee singing in our holly tree—and being able to capture him on video—was a privilege. And it was more. It was a moment of sublime connection to God, the Creator—a connection that didn’t need words. Just a joyous bird song on an ordinary summer evening.
Last October, a male red-bellied woodpecker would appear at 4:45 pm in the pine behind our house and settle into a roosting cavity for the evening.
I would hear his laughing call in the distance and wait for him. When he arrived, flew in and peeked out from the cavity, I’d feel a sense of peace wash over me. It was the peace that comes from bearing loving witness to the divine order of things. The blessing that is right in front of us, once our eyes learn to see it.
The fact that I was drawn to birding in my late 50’s through an act of kindness was a God thing. It was God telling me that the time had come to be still, look and listen. It was God showing me a way to let go of the past, not worry about the future and just be here in the beautiful, wondrous present.
Now that I have stepped away from the work world, I am birding every day that I can. We just had three days of rare late winter warmth here in south central Pennsylvania. I spent most of those three days in the woods with the Eastern bluebirds who are beginning to flirt and house hunt and near the feeders with the American goldfinches whose sunny breeding plumage is starting to show under their chins. In other words, I spent most of the last three
days in prayer.
Thank you, Gilbert, for the gift that brought me closer to God. No words needed.
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