the wonder of birds

I came home from writing yesterday to find a small box addressed to me in the mailbox. Inside were four CDs of a band I knew only by name and a note from a wonderfully caring person who talked about what the music of The Innocence Mission had meant to her and how she hoped it would resonate with me. I started with their self-titled record and have yet to get to the second one. The music is haunting, meaningful, and resonant.

Here are the lyrics to the final cut on the record, “The Wonder of Birds”:

we keep our hands above the water
we know that, someday, we will fly away
with all the wonder of birds
with all the wonder of birds

we keep our voices as guarded secrets
wait for a while
and we will surely sing
with all the wonder of birds
with all the wonder of birds

we make a sky where we may be
we build a home with windows to fly through
windows to fly through

we learn to dance with broomstick partners
grace will be ours

when we will grow our wings
with all the wonders of birds
with all the wonders of birds

Sometimes around sunset, the bay near our house stills and the surface of the water smoothes to mirror the last flames of daylight as the turn to embers on the horizon. There is a medium sized bird, whose name I don’t know – who starts high and dives down, leveling out inches, perhaps centimeters, above the glass surface and glides without moving so much as a feather from one side of our little inlet to the other, pulling up at the last minute and climbing back into the sky, often circling to do it again, perfectly.

The wonder of birds. Grace will be ours.

Peace,
Milton