Like everyone, I use shortcuts to navigate the area. Now that it’s spring, I enjoy the lawns and brightly flowered landscapes of the residential streets. Recently while cutting through a well-landscaped residential area, I caught a glimpse of what I assumed was a piece of yard art: a beautifully detailed casting of a bird dog on point—lifelike in every way! But just as I was returning my glance to the street, I saw the statue move ever so slightly.
Unable to resist, I swung into the next driveway to get a safer look. Sure enough, the beautiful piece of yard art was indeed a living, breathing animal. Striking a classic point into a small decorative tree, it held its position until a tiny bird fluttered to a nearby bush. I drove on, cataloging in my mind how incredibly God equips living things with instinctual abilities to accomplish a higher purpose. Back at the office, I looked online for pictures of the breed and decided my new friend might be an English Pointer.
This morning as I tooled down the same residential street, having forgotten about the dog for the moment, I was delighted to see her again. There she was, this time lying in a motionless crouch, her eyes focused like lasers into the foliage, fixed on her feathered interest. I slowed just enough to study her eyes, keen in her upward gaze. I couldn’t see what she had targeted but it was clear she was doing what came naturally. I thought to myself, “Now there’s a bird watcher!” I’ve decided to call her Tippy (the name of one of my favorite childhood terriers). Her intensity was compelling; I felt like a little boy who had snuck under the tent to witness a trained animal act for free!
Suddenly several birds flitted from Tippy’s target-tree and into the shrubbery near the house. I fully expected her to break out in song and chase after the birds… but she didn’t. Like a gymnast on a balance beam, she tiptoed noiselessly toward the shrubbery. Her head was suspended on a parallel plane to the ground, her tail straight out and motionless. Her hips and haunches carried her robotically across the well-mown yard until she was within three feet of the bush, where she crouched again as though hydraulically operated. Her ballerina gracefulness touched me. I was elevated by her natural choreography as she controlled her poise and strength with tremendous reserve.
Maybe you’ve seen my friend? She lives on Rainbow Drive just east of 37. If you go that way, I hope you get to see her dancing with the sparrows. It’s inspiring.
Tippy caused me to realize something about myself. Finding grace and beauty in nature isn’t difficult for me, but finding the time to enjoy it is. I suffer from my own self-imposed deadlines. I convince myself I’m too busy to stop and coo at nature’s theatrics. Recently, I’ve been on a quest to know Jesus more personally. One of the aspects I’m learning from the Gospels is He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. Oh sure, He’s purposed (“I’ve come to do the will of my Father in Heaven”). But He stops and chats. He stoops and writes in the dirt, He looks to the fig tree expectantly, He speaks of sparrows and wheat fields and red skies at night… and He often goes off by Himself, alone.
I hope to encourage us to consider how we might allow for more divine interruptions– spiritual breaths of fresh air, gift wrapped surprises hidden in our surroundings that unwrap themselves by our glance, and express themselves only when we give them our attention.
“Yes, we should make the most of what God gives,
both the bounty and the capacity to enjoy it,
accepting what’s given and delighting in the work.
It’s God’s gift!”
Ecclesiastes 5:19
“Quiet down before GOD, be prayerful before him.
Don’t bother with those who climb the ladder, who elbow their way to the top.”
Psalm 37:7
Lord, please keep tapping me on the shoulder. I promise to pay better attention to the small but incredible things happening all around me. Your artistry is breathtaking and I worship You for the remarkable details of life!