Recently while camping, we spent an uncomfortable night while a storm crashed around us. It was late before we could finally get to sleep. In the morning, the first thing I did was open the camper door to see if any tree limbs had landed on the camper or our cars. When I saw no damage, I grabbed my binoculars and headed out to see if the birds had survived.
It was one of those weird mornings where the sun wasn’t really shining and the light seemed a little eerie. But once I walked out from under the trees, there were birds everywhere in the sky. They flew from one limb to another and back again. They crossed the meadow in flocks, moving as one. They circled above the lake, gliding on the wind currents. It felt like they were celebrating getting through the night as much as I was.
As I watched the flying acrobatic show, the choral hymn Joy in the Morning by Natalie Sleeth starting playing in my mind: “Joy . . . there is joy, there is joy in the morning.” As I began to sing aloud, I stopped looking through my binoculars and just watched with joy.
I don’t know if birds really feel joy. I don’t know if birds feel fear during a storm. I probably cast my own feelings upon them. But watching them show off their skill in flight brought me joy. And, watching them brought me into the presence of God.
The psalmist wrote, “Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning!” (Ps 30:5b) Those are words to hang on to during the storm.
Here’s some lagniapppe (a New Orleans word that means “a little something extra”) for you if you’ve never heard the choral rendition of Joy in the Morning.
