I Think of You

Every time I see a new bird or hear a new whistle I think of my mother and wonder if that little bird has already flown by her house, too...

Even though we have lived apart for almost twenty years, we are close in heart.  Missions separates loved ones and it is never easy, even after many years.  Service in a foreign land even in today's time with Skype and Voip and Facebook and what not is just not the same as regular physical presence.  It does help!

But isn't it funny when I see the old guy down the street that works on his jalopies each afternoon under a shade tree, that I think of my daddy faraway.

When I see the old coot out on his farm with his bad teeth and his funny little laugh, I'm always reminded of one of my uncles - the guy here just lacks bibbed overalls.

Certain smells, certain sounds, take me back to Old Virginia in an instant and for a single little moment I'm there.  Ah, but in a flash I hear a donkey squalling or a sound car coming down the street and I'm transported back to Brazil in a hurry.  Don't get me wrong, I rather like the little place where I live, but it's not the same as that with which I grew up and of that with which seems like "home."

So when I see a new bird or hear a new whistle, I wonder if my mother has ever seen or heard one just like that.  She's an avid birdlover.  I see a little blue scissor-tailed hummer and wonder if he's ever been to Virginia and could give me a little message from home. 

Today, Mom, I said Happy Birthday to a pretty little bird tweeting in my big nut tree.  I said fly to Virginia and deliver my message right quick.  It might take him a while to make it up your way and he may well forget as he flies all those miles, but I wonder if he might just remember when he sees all those bird feeders after his long journey and recall the message sent in February...

Happy birthday from faraway, Mom.  Next year I hope to be with you in person!

From Jeremiah 8 -

When I would comfort myself against sorrow, my heart is faint in me.  Behold the voice of the cry of the daughter of my people because of them that dwell in a far country: Is not the Lord in Zion? is not her king in her? .... Is there no balm in Gilead; is there no physician there?

Yes, there is a balm in Gilead and little birds to brighten my days.  Aren't we glad that God gives peace and comfort to His own.