Wise Owl

As I sit here typing this post, there are two very tired dogs who are snoring next to me on the couch. They are both exhausted hounds this evening and are sleeping the sleep that only completely tuckered out canines can sleep. And I ... well, honestly, I am sitting here feeling rather jealous of my dogs and their blissful sleep. For the last several months, there has been a change in my sleeping pattern and I never sleep through the night any longer. But at least when I first go to bed, I fall asleep quickly and get my best rest of the night during those first few hours ... until a week or so ago anyway.

There is a large tree in my neighbor's yard that sits close to the part of my house where my bedroom is located, and some of the branches hang quite near my bedroom window. And for several nights, that tree became the resting place for a large owl ... a large, very vocal owl. While his constant, "Hoo, hoo, hoo," is, I'm certain, music to his own ears, my perception of his loud cacophony of sound is quite different. For the first two nights of Mr. Owl's relentless noise-making, I lay in my bed thinking, "He'll pipe down soon ... surely he can't carry on like that for very long." The next three nights brought about a definite change in my patient and understanding manner concerning my newly acquired feathered nemesis. What began as at least an attempt to see some sort of beauty in having an owl outside my window quickly deteriorated into a strong desire to go out at midnight with a slingshot and encourage Mr. Owl to go bless someone else with his nonstop hooting for a while.

It perplexes me immensely why it seems to take so long for me to "get it" when God is trying to speak to me or get my attention. By the sixth night, as I once again listened to the relentless, "Hoo, hoo, hoo," of the seemingly tireless creature outside my window, I finally said aloud in the darkness of my room, "OK, God ... I give ... what is up with this blasted owl? I need at least some sleep in order to halfway function." The minute the words escaped my lips, Mr. Owl's hooting seemed to take on a different timbre ... a different cadence ... a different tone. Rather than annoying and frustrating me, his voice became almost soothing, peaceful, restful. I began to join him in his "Hoo, hoo, hoo," keeping pace with him in the pauses between each utterance in a sing-song manner until I drifted off to sleep.

Upon the arrival of the seventh night, I was actually anticipating my new nightly routine as I readied myself and my dogs for bed. Snuggled under the covers with the hounds nestled in their respective spots, I once again joined the great winged songster in repeating, "Hoo, hoo, hoo," when it happened ... I had a God moment that brought me quite literally out of my bed and to my knees. In chanting along with Mr. Owl, I suddenly remembered the story of Peter when Jesus asked him, "Who do you say that I am?" Did you catch that word? "Who ... who ... who do you say that I am?" My mouth formed the "Hoo, hoo, hoo," with Mr. Owl as I heard God whisper, "Terrie, who, who, who do you say that I am? Do you say that I am your Lord? Do you say that I am your Savior? Do you say that I am the Christ, the Son of the living God? Who, who, who do you say that I am?"

My prayer as I practically jumped from my bed and fell to my knees is the same prayer that has been constantly in my heart since that night ... may my words, my thoughts, my actions, my very life shout that You are my Lord, my Savior, my Master, my Protector, my Healer ... may my life reflect You ... Your love, Your patience, Your forgiveness, Your truth.

Oh ... and Mr. Owl? He's moved on to croon another night in another tree, to speak to another heart ... hoo, hoo, hoo ... Who, Who, Who do you say that He is???