Singing Unafraid as Twilight Deepens

This evening after supper and family worship I slipped out of the house on a walk

as the sun was setting.

My path took me by that big cottonwood tree, and something was in one of the topmost branches--

singing.

At first I thought it might be a robin, but upon closer look, it wasn't.

I have no idea what kind of bird it was, but it's song was beautiful.

Most times when I approach that close to a bird in a tree, it flies away.

Not this one. 

Bravely he trilled on and on.

And after pausing and gazing, I walked on--

a mother with a single intention for my walk that time of day:

to seek out my little prayer nook

and bring a mother's deep prayer to the Lord.

 Only God knows the burden of a mother's heart when the world is crying for her children's attention

and she doesn't want them to turn out on the scrap heap like so many.

 Broken boards, kindling, dross, sticks. 

Do we really want our children building their lives with wood...

 and stubble?

What is going to stand the test of the final Day?

Will our lives be just so much wood, hay and stubble...

 just so many toys?

 Or will our lives have the backbone of a sure foundation built on the Rock?

Will we build on it gold, iron, and silver--things that will last,

things that will stand the test of time and eternity?

Rather than being wood for stubble, may the heavenly Potter,

the heavenly Chiseler, the heavenly Artist

burn upon our hearts His will and all His desire for us and our children.

 Their names are on His hands.

Whatever it takes, Lord, to let each of our children wear workboots in Your work,

not ours. 

Your will and Your mission in this world,

not of the world.

 There had been school this morning, and duties, and putting a CD of mission trip photos together this afternoon to display on the computer at IHC next week.

And I had tried to work on the wooden cowboy boots that we're going to hang on the livingroom wall--whenever we finally get them finished.

 My decorating ability isn't very great.

 It's definitely not what I was made out to do. 

And to be honest, my heart isn't in it very much. 

Spending hours trying to spruce up my house after seeing so many other people's nicely decorated places is not my cup of tea. 

There's nothing wrong with it, I suppose, it's just that my heart isn't in it.

 I guess my heart was a little heavy as I walked the trail, all the way to the top, 

and then on the way down stopped at my little nook. 

The prayers I prayed as I walked were between the Lord and me. 

And at the nook, I just sat and was still.

"I have told You my requests, Lord," I said, "in very simple terms."

"Now, I am sitting here listening for You to speak to me."

There waiting quietly on Him, He gave me a verse, and a promise. 

So I can wait for the answer to come. 

And on the way home, the bird [was it a lark?] was still singing.

It never moved all the time I walked underneath it. 

Never moved while I returned home for the camera.

I snapped photo after photo and still it sang bravely on. 

 It was only as I was trying to turn off the flash on my camera, and turned upward again to try for another shot that I realized the bird had vanished.

I had heard no whir of wings, 

but suddenly it was gone and the song was still.

Was it just another whisper from God

about what He really wants from us?

While the world darkens and the sun is setting, 

with God as our Father, why can we not sing bravely on 

regardless what person or power passes our way trying to break us down

and get us to lose our trust in God?

Would He not want us to wait patiently for Him to work in our behalf,

but to sing bravely on while we wait?