For The Birds

I think birds dance in their underwear.

Last night was one of my many don't-fall-asleep-at-all nights...the kind where you are in and out of bed every 20 minutes for the whooooole night. I have come to know them well and to see the signs early on that it's gonna be one of "those nights." From this manic part of my life (yes I am bi-polar, which if you know me well you may find yourself muttering "well that explains a lot.") often comes my best creative ideas and in the middle of the night is when God will speak to my heart through prayer or reading The Word. I have learned to whisper in the true desperation of an insomniac "speak Lord for your servant is listening," or in less in-control moments when all I want to do is sleep....I have been known to look to the heavens and say "whaaaaaat???"

I had one of those nights last night. I jotted down every thought, blog idea and made a laundry list of all I needed to do next time we were on The Rez in an effort to find why I was up....what I was supposed to not miss in the middle of the dang night. Nothin'. So I did what every good soldier in the war on this terror called insomnia has learned to do. I made a latte' at 3 a.m. Actually, oftentimes that will do the job. Sorta like a hyper kid being given uppers to negate the hyper. I like to explain this phenomenon when it does not work by using the technical phrase "whatever."

But at 4:44 this morning....I stepped out onto my front porch. It was still totally dark, but I sure thought I heard a bird singing....and so I stepped outside. I expected to hear the sound of a lone bird...I had heard this before. But this was different. This sounded like dozens and dozens of birds...birds with a beautiful song, clear and strong...lifting their voices to the crescent moon...performing just for me. Or so I thought. Then a picture came to me so clear that I thought for a moment, in my now-latte-induced insomnia, that I could see him. David. David so full of love for his God and joy in his Spirit that he danced in his ephod before Him and His Angel Armies. Couldn't even wait to get dressed....just danced and sang and wrote love poems and worshiped in his priestly underwear. Perhaps the birds weren't singing to me, but their abandon and confidence in the Creator was something he let me in on for a few minutes.

Birds who had no idea if they would find a worm that day for breakfast, who weren't worried about what they would make their nests out of or if their feathers were prettier than the bird next door. To me they seemed so excited about the sun coming up and a new day dawning....that they couldn't even wait for that actual moment to occur. They didn't wait to get dressed. They danced in their underwear.

So there I stood on my porch in my holey pajamas....(that's holey not holy), closed my eyes, raised my hands and saw David dance in the sounds of the birds. Oh God, let us seek only to please you, to offer you our praise even in the dark, even at odd times...even when everyone around us might look at the tattered and torn nest of our life and say "that is one crazy bird." They can't hear the sound of you singing over me...but I can. And so I dance.