Still singing
on finding a voice and a song in the cold and dark of winter
After a bout with the flu and a secondary chest infection, I’m getting back to regular walking. Typically, I’ll walk about 10,000 steps a day year-round, but in this bracing cold New England winter, my recovering lungs are having a hard time adjusting to the chill and lately it’s been a challenge. But since I know that walking is good for me in every way, still I head out. At the end of the day, what choice do we have but to keep going?
I’ve noticed a few things on my winter walks: the invisible slipping hazard of black ice, the layers I need to wear for protection against the elements, the snow that becomes slush that becomes ice, the trees that by all appearances sure seem dead, and the birds that are still singing no matter the temperature. Each of these is a metaphor for where I find myself spiritually today.
Since I know that one misstep could result in a fall or injury, I’m being particularly careful where I’m stepping today. On a walk that means keeping my head on a swivel, but in my spiritual life these days, it means careful avoidance of most social media. Because the country and the world are on fire and there’s so much happening that is so obviously wrong, I find my spirit can’t take too much commentary, which can be angering, worrying, or profoundly disappointing, depending on where you step. Best to choose our steps carefully these days, I think.
As I watch snow becoming slush and then ice and then melted and evaporated water, I’m reminded of the constant state of flux that was always our reality, one to which we are perhaps now more attuned. I consider the things which I can control and the things I can’t, the things which come from God and the things that don’t, the layers of protection I wear, the ways in which I can offer help to those around me, and the one constant which is change1.
As I look up to the gray sky and the brittle, bare trees, I shudder at the despair of it all but then some days, I remember the ways in which they are still at work, even now, to produce green leaves and fruit in a time and a way that no human ever could. It reminds me of God’s Providence and how He works in seasons mostly apart from our view.
And the birds, friend. The birds are still singing, even now. Even in single digit temperatures, even when the wind is whipping, even while sitting balanced on a wire, still they are singing. And I know that I as a child of a living God should be singing, too. Though, like them, I will sometimes need to hide away or share space and warmth with others or even shiver a bit as a body’s natural reflex to protect itself, there are times I will have to sing, despite it all.
Finding a voice and choosing a song are challenges out here in the cold and dark of winter, but like the birds, I know that singing is, in part, what I am made for.
What song are you singing today?2
Raised Catholic rewind:
Raised Catholic mysticism series: Into the Mystic episode 57, Mystical Union episode 58, The Good Fruit of Encountering God episode 59, Everyday Mysticism episode 60
What I’m listening to/recommending/reading:
Goodness is Not Powerless - how to change the world without being a billionaire, by Brad Montague at The Enthusiast - this gorgeous essay made my heart unclench.
Book: Jesus Calling devotional, by Sarah Young - daily, timely, scripture-based words from God
Song: Wonder (Spontaneous - Live), by Bethel Music, Amanda Cook
Song: What a Wonderful World, by Jon Batiste
Prayer:
God, help us to hear you singing still. God, help us to lend our voice. God, in this dark time, help us to know our song and sing it out no matter the weather. For us and our dear ones, in the name of Jesus and wrapped in the mantle of our Mother Mary, we pray, amen.
Also, God.
I really want to know! Tell me in the comments, please.