Thunder and Birdsong

 

Now therefore hearken unto me, O ye children:

for blessed are they that keep my ways.

                                                                       — Proverbs 8:32

 

            We took our kids to golf camp in the Ozarks so they could fine-tune their swings and yuk it up with teenage mutants from all over the country. We stayed at an adjoining golf condo for a mini-vacation.

 

            My husband got to play lots of golf, far from his office in downtown Stressopolis.

 

            He and the girls were out all day and evening, golfing and swimming and boating and jet-skiing and Putt-Putting.

 

            But I was stuck in the condo . . . with our new baby.

 

            She was still pretty little, pretty fussy, and up a lot at night. Not exactly a prescription for a restful, carefree vacation.

 

            The best thing for her was to stay quiet in the condo, take little naps in the porta-crib, and be a baby.

 

            That meant I had to stay quiet in the condo, take little naps on the pull-out couch, and be a mommy.

 

            This baby was a big surprise. We referred to her as "Whoopsie Daisy." We were in our mid-40s. Our other kids were 17, 15, and 12. Was a late-in-life baby inconvenient? Physically, emotionally and financially challenging?

 

            Let's put it this way: Whistler's Mother wasn't smiling, and neither was Whoopsie's.

 

            Some people "go postal." I was "going post-partum."

 

            By the third day of the trip, I was cranky, lonely, sleep-deprived, and feeling terribly sorry for myself. Hmmmph! While everybody ELSE was out PLAYING, here I was . . . STUCK, STUCK, STUCK.

 

At mid-morning, I finally went out to sit on the deck of our rented room and give the baby her bottle. Big whoop. Sitting outside: the big thrill of the day.

 

            I hunched over like Poor Pitiful Pearl, tears trickling down my nose and chin, as she sucked. My life sucked, too.

 

            A year ago, it would have been ME out on that golf course, ME racing that jet-ski, ME hiking up that mountain trail, ME power-shopping, ME having a peaceful dinner out. . . .

 

            ME! ME! ME! ME! ME! That's not singing. That's whining.

 

            I just felt so left out, so pointless, so worthless.

 

            How many other new mothers, throughout time, have had these thoughts? I bet most of us.

 

            Suddenly, I looked down, and noticed a teentsy hand gripping my finger, pressing that bottle closer. The baby's tiny fingertips were white, she was so intense about getting that feeding.

 

            I stared at her, as if for the first time.

 

A little light dawned. Heyyyyyyy! At least I count with HER!

 

And what a cutie! I'd almost forgotten! I had been too busy pouting to enjoy her baby face, lately.

 

            Then I looked up, and realized that my view onto the golf course was breathtaking. It was the first fairway, emerald green and tree-lined, majestic, like a golf poster. Why hadn't I noticed before?

 

            It was one of those mysteriously wonderful Ozark mornings: still and foggy, then a rumble of thunder over those hills. All still again. Then thunder. Then silence. Then a blaze of sunshine and a riot of birdsong:

 

            "Tweeeeet! Zip diddle zip diddle tweeeeet! Doodly doodly doodly doodly tweeeeet!"

 

            I love birdsong. Birds are quite the musicians! You so rarely get a chance to just sit and listen.

 

Suddenly, across the fairway walked a graceful doe with adorable twin fawns. They grazed. The babies frolicked. They stayed for a long time. I drank in the sight with my eyes. Then the deer mom turned, whisked her tail, and the little ones tumbled obediently after her into the woods.

 

            How about that? She's handling motherhood just fine. She looks like she's having FUN! And SHE'S got TWO. Why can't I suck it up and do my job with just the one?

 

            I love deer. I always wear a gold deer necklace that my dad gave me years ago. It reminds me of our cabin, and him. It's precious. Like this time in my life . . . like this new baby.

 

            People say thunder is the voice of God. Birdsong is, too. How did it happen, on such a beautiful summer morning, that no golfers came by during this whole time? Because it was a private show, that's why.

 

Whoa! God!?! Can He do that?!?! Of course He can, and He did. Power and authority mixed with the music and beauty of nature are guaranteed to get my attention, every time.

 

            I knew He was speaking to me in that moment. God wants us to be blessed, and His favorite way to do it is to give new life. Yes, it's hard. But he'll cheer you up along the way. You just hang in there, and enjoy it. That was His message.

 

            Susan, Susan, don't miss this blessing. Don't mistake it for a burden. It's a joy! Embrace it! Enjoy it! I sent it for YOU! A precious little baby is the very, very best I have to give! You can be a good mother and have fun, just like that doe.

 

            I lowered my head. Tears plopped down onto the baby: tears of humility and acceptance.

 

If I HADN'T been "stuck" there that morning, I would never have seen and heard the beauty and the majesty and the message of the thunder and birdsong . . . and the God-sent model of another mother gracefully doing her job. †