In the predawn darkness, Mother Bird sat perched on the tree branch. With a lift of her head, she looked for the rising sun as she had for many years. She thought of those many years when the rising sun had been greeted by the song that warbled from her throat. Within her heart and soul memories began to stir. Precious memories of her glorious life. On waves of love, they flooded her entire being. Like a soft, warm blanket they wrapped around her. But this morning she felt tired and worn.
She looked toward the horizon. Across the sky the glow of the rising sun cast rainbow colors which sparkled in the morning sun. The first glow of the day shone with radiance. Her heart leaped with joy. The magnificence of the sun, as it rose, always reminded her that joy comes in the morning no matter how dark the night.
And she sang.
She remembered those dark nights. One of the darkest was when she found her mate’s body lying in the dirt still and cold. His feathers saturated with blood from a wound in his body. Through the agony of numerous nights of tears, and a broken heart, she felt morning would never come. What loneliness day and night brought to her. Her mate was no more. She longed for his warmth, his love. God remembered her. Engulfed her with His comfort. Morning came. It found her perched on the tree branch.
And she sang.
Hardships presented themselves. The young ones, her fledglings, depended on her. Food had to be found to nourish their growing bodies. Into the sky she flew, back again, trip after trip to bring food. She became exhausted. She pulled her young ones to her breast at night and tucked them under her wings. Her body for protection and warmth for the nest. Hot sun of the day beat down on them. Over her young ones she placed her body. It was their shade. Heavy rains fell. Her body their dry place. Through the hardships of raising her young she fought to have joy. Again, morning came.
And she sang.
Enemies tried to steal her children from the nest. Enemies with fur, long claws, and sharp teeth. She fought. Dived at them, pecked them on their bodies. Furiously, in their faces, she flapped her wings. The enemies turned and retreated; driven away. Her nest would not be her children’s grave. She kept them safe. God kept her safe.
Then the time came. Her children left the nest after they were taught to fly. Into the open sky they flew as she watched. Smaller and smaller they became until they were specks in the heaven. All that remained was an empty nest and heart. She was so tired and worn. In God there was rest. She knew this.
And she sang.
She looked upon herself as the sun rose above the horizon. Drab feathers. Gone were their luster and beauty. Worn was her body. She felt as if it couldn’t sustain her much longer. Gone was the high, beautiful trill of her song. Singing muscles in her throat had grown weak. The notes just didn’t seem to fill the heavens anymore. It was morning when her chorus was louder and prouder than any time of the day. Gone was her dawn chorus. Her faithfulness and praise to God had been her morning song. Deep within her heart she felt as if this would be her last morning to sing. One last time she would try.
And she sang.
With a brilliance never seen by her, rose the sun. Rays from it lit the morning. Its radiance shone all around her. Golden radiant light illuminated the heavens and earth as she beheld the sun. A greater light outshone the sun. Sheer in its power it cast into the heavens the Glory of God. The Son rose with healing in His hands. Christ the Morning Sun.
The heavens sang. She recognized the song. It was one heard by her so many times in her lifetime. Always with her, continuous in her heart and soul. The Father’s and Son’s song ever present. They joyed over her with singing. Upon this little mother the sun’s rays poured—seeped into her body. Filled her entire being with warmth. Her body began to rise upward into the glorious heavens; and came to rest on a tree branch. Into the face of the the Son of God she stared and beheld His glory. His face full of compassion, love, peace. Eyes looked upon her with deep tenderness.
Upon herself she looked. Her feathers, no longer drab or lacking luster. Resplendent with heavenly color they dazzled her eyes. New life coursed through her body. Health, strength, wholeness – born again unto new life. Songs with clarity trilled from her throat. Out of it came glorious sounds of praise and worship which filled all of heaven’s realms. Her song rang pure in the holy atmosphere. The little mother looked into the face of Christ, her Redeemer.
And—She—Sang
Psalms 68:4
Eyes On It 