The Good Morning Birds

One of my earliest memories as a child is going with my father to the track early in the morning and what I have over the years remembered as the Good Morning Birds.  I was very young, not more than four years old.  I didn’t want to go because I thought I’d be bored.  My father told me if I was good, I’d get to see these special birds wake up and fly out of the pond that sat just beyond the fencing of the track.

It must have seemed exciting to me at the time because I went along with my father and I clearly recall being happy about it.  The sun had not yet completed it’s ascension to usher in the new day  and the sky was painted in colors of yellow and pinks and purples and navy.  I chased my father around the track and then stopped at the final turn where the pond was.  I pressed my face hard against the chain link fence, looking through to the pond and only saw a green layer of slime and some lily pads.  It was still and silent.  Nothing was moving or making noises of any kind. But I wanted to see the beautiful birds fly.  

“Good Morning,” I whispered through the fence.

Not a sound returned

“Good Morning,” I said again a little louder.

Only a small echo of my own voice returned my greeting.

I took a deep breath in and with everything I had in my little four year old body, i yelled, “I said GOOD MORNING!”

I heard some rustling but could not see where it was coming from.  I held my breath and waited.  And just as I inhaled to scream another good morning, the loudest squawking and flapping of wings I’ve ever heard came at me with what seemed like thousands of birds flying up from beyond the fence.  I was terrified and turned and ran as fast as I could.  I couldn’t even tell if the birds were beautiful or not because I was so frightened. That was my first 100m dash,  it may have been my fastest. 

I ran to catch my father, who scooped me up in his arms and threw me on his back as he kept running and scolding me gently.  “You need to be more patient, you should’ve waited for the birds and they would not have scared you.” I could feel him laughing under his breath as I wrapped my arms tight around his head, still terrified.  After finishing his lap with me choking him, he put me down, “You can keep running with me, or sit on the bleachers until I’m done.  Just don’t go waking anything else up. And sit very still, "he added, with a tone of what I know now was sarcasm," in case the birds are still looking for you.”

I chose to sit as still as I’ve ever sat on the bleachers and watch my father run. I sat as far away from the end where the pond was as possible, my heart beating out of my chest so loud, I swore the birds would hear it and find me if I couldn’t calm myself down.

I have often wondered over the years why I so vividly recall that morning with the Good Morning Birds over 30 years later.  It wasn’t until recently that I have been able to look back on that early memory and know the lesson in that moment was to learn patience with life and in turn trust and faith in that which I cannot yet see, like those birds sleeping peacefully before I came along to disrupt their morning slumber.In many ways I have learned these things,  but to this day, I still believe in setting my mind to something and then wanting to see it manifest immediately. I want to make it happen in my time.I want answers immediately. Technology in my generation and my children’s generation has made this nearly the easiest and most learned behavior, instant gratification, instant response, patience not needed.  Everything is instant and digital and  one no longer needs faith, trust, or patience. One can simply google or youtube just about anything one wants to know.  All  the superficial answers to life are at our fingertips.  

And what about those more substantial answers we seek?  The ones that we cannot simply google or youtube? The ones that allow us to heal, to grow, to evolve? The ones that demand our faith, our patience, and our trust?  How do we learn to find these when we have been so trained away from patience and trust?

For me, as I continue on in life, through the challenges, I realize, the most magical moments, what I value most, what I get the most joy from, are the things that demand my patience and I seek them out now. It can be as simple as the patience to pick up and read that book that has been sitting on the shelf waiting to have it's pages turned one by one, revealing it's magic, with each new page, to transform the reader to another place and time.  I never purchase a bouquet of lilies fully bloomed, I enjoy too much watching and waiting for the buds to open.  In fact, I usually buy the one with the fewest blooms.  I love how the scent, as each bud grows and opens up, fills my home.  I love how a new bloom with  the vibrant pink against the white surprises me each morning.  I love when winter ends and the trees begin to bud, the excitement and enthusiasm and anticipation I feel for Spring and Summer. I have learned to find appreciation for my kid’s teenage years as they drive me crazy, not wishing it away anymore and occasionally enjoying the young, loud, and often sloppy adults that come and go in my home.  I’ve learned to be patient with my fitness and appreciate the gains and progress I make as I keep working towards new goals. I’ve learned to be patient as my spirit heals the wounds and scars of my past. I’ve even learned to appreciate the grieving process and all it has taught me about myself and life.   And I’ve learned it’s okay if it still hurts now and then and that healing isn’t forgetting but accepting, accepting the divinity and perfection of all of it and then somehow finding away to be grateful for the very things that broke me and then forged me into, what I believe, is a better version of my self. All of this leaves me with no choice but to learn patience and trust the process of all of it.  

  

I’m not sure I’ll ever learn to truly and fully trust anything again or master the art of stillness and patience, I’m not sure my spirit was designed for that.  But I am slowly learning to appreciate and be grateful for the beauty and  blessings of how things develop and grow in their own time, in their own way, in their own space and that makes it a little easier for me to sit back and let go and let be.