Tip of My Iceberg

The sun is rising as I leave the house for my morning walk. The quiet is calming and surprising.

I used to have to walk earlier in the morning for such sweet silence. Before the loud of life overwhelmed the stillness. Before the noisy traffic, the lawncare folks making yards beautiful, the huge trucks gathering waste that is always part of life.

There’s a pause before the day begins. A space to hear the bigger sounds that are often muted by busyness and noise.

The small birds sing.

In the quiet, they’re easy to hear, though not as obvious to see. These tiny creatures hide in trees, perch atop houses, balance on light posts.

Their songs are unique and melodic. Chirping, twittering, warbling–everyone has their own voice. As unorganized and individual as it is, there is incredible beauty in the many songs sung. Their distinctive voices blend in complementary tones.

They’re the heralds of the days, and as small and innocuous as they are, their music welcomes each day like an old friend, thrilled to be the first to say good morning.

By the end of the walk, day noises have masked singing and many of the birds I hear at this time are the bigger ones. Hawks, sandhill cranes, the ducks flying overhead.

It appears the larger and flashier the bird, the less lovely the voice.

Have you ever heard a peacock screech?

It’s a privilege to listen, but I recognize so many don’t want to hear. Many are those I pass with headphones, earbuds, or talking on phones as they walk, ride bikes, or run. I’m just as much a lover of music as the next person, and a good podcast is always encouraging.

I’ve grown to enjoy the quiet. It’s a discipline for me, not always needing music playing when I drive or walk. Being alone with the sounds around me and my own thoughts.

That was the tricky part–my thoughts. Too many times I didn’t want to have to think of all the things pestering my brain like crazed hamsters running on the wheel of my mind. I could dismiss it with music or someone else speaking in my ear.

Being dismissive wasn’t valuing my voice. In the different roles I’ve had in life, I’ve never thought my voice was worth listening to. That what I had to say wasn’t as important as someone else who spoke with greater authority or more passion.

God has given us all a voice and says what we say matters. Not the arrogant, critical, hurtful things that can run rampant out our mouths, but our thoughts and ideas, our questions and concerns. Our voices are lovely to His ears as we come to Him with the things that weigh us down, that confuse or disrupt us.

He’s ready to listen whenever we want to speak to Him.

I may feel small and insignificant on any given day, overwhelmed by the loud and demanding voices around me. But God hears my soft voice. My hesitancies, random thoughts, and unsure processes. They aren’t annoying or burdensome to Him.

God delights in my life song.

I’m music to His ears.