Eagle, eagle on the wall
Jesus said to the people, now tenderly: “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”
– From Matthew 11 (The Message)
This week’s scriptures are drawing me into the realities of grace, and mercy, and peace.
My favorite squirrel, the one I want to stop eating all the bird seed, sits on top of the feeder’s post and looks straight into my eyes. Soon he will once again perch upside down, gripping the feeder with his tail, and eat to his heart’s content. On the other side of the feeder the sparrows come and go.
Not many eagles come by our back yard. I have seen them sometimes, along a deep river, high on a jagged cliff, as they fly for their own food and their baby’s. The sparrow wings flutter, tinkle, rush. The eagle’s wings glide, strong in any wind, mostly still.
Before my father died his fellow elders at Faith Lutheran Church in Lincoln presented him with a weaving for the living room. It’s still there. On this tapestry, an eagle rises out of the words from Isaiah: “Those who wait upon the Lord will renew their strength, they will rise up on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk, and not faint.”
On my dad’s 80th birthday in August 2002, his family sat with him under the eagle and celebrated his life. He struggled into the living room, from the bed where he spent most of his time. He sat and smiled, breathed his oxygen, and opened the gifts we brought. A John Deere tractor for his desk. A watch. A book of readings from the Psalms.
Still open sometimes then on his desk was a three-foot wide ledger. Long before Quicken days, this was how he kept track. Not just a farmer but also accountant, Dad always knew where things stood. He was quiet in this knowledge. Perhaps it helped him not be frightened, not be grasping. At least once he forfeited, with grace, his right to a large sum when another farmer failed to keep their bargain. Contracts don’t always need to be the last word.
When we were first married Margaret and I sometimes sang what we called “Special Music” at Sunday night church in Mt. Pulaski. (I have one picture to prove it!) We put together a medley of choruses, and they ended with a sweet melody inscribed onto Isaiah 40:30-31.
They will run and not grow weary.
At Dad’s funeral, a few months after his birthday party, Margaret and I sang together again. Twenty plus years later, we sang for Dad one more time. I hope he heard us, I know he loved the song. “I’ll fly away, O glory! I’ll fly away. When I die, hallelujah bye and bye, I’ll fly away.”
Lord, the day wears on, the sky has become almost completely blue. The earth turns, and the sun follows its course. Your grace and your mercy are in the very air we breathe. O Glory, how beautiful is this peace. This never-ending peace.
https://www.davesandel.net/category/advent-and-christmas-devotions-2019/
http://www.christiancounselingservice.com/archive.php?year=2019
