It’s about 3:45 in the morning and I’m wide awake. I surrender to the temporary insomnia and head downstairs, shadowed by kitties and an old groggy dog. The house is quiet as I turn on the small light over the sink and pull the canister of Starbucks coffee from the back of the counter. After starting the coffee to brew, I walk to the back door and switch on the yard light, being sure to scan the outdoors for wildlife before I let the dog head out for the lawn.
With an oversized cup of freshly brewed Italian Roast, I head back up the stairs to the prayer room. Opening the windows a bit further I hear the peeper frogs’ soft chirping from a distant pond. Setting the cup on the end table, I settle back in the recliner with the graying little dog curling up between my feet and a long haired silver cat on my lap. Neither of them is any too happy about my early morning wanderings.
Picking up my rosary I begin my usual morning prayer routine. There is an unclouded comfort in starting each day drinking a cup of coffee with Jesus and his Mother. I’m not one to wake up easily or quickly and this hour with them eases me into the day…one of the special privileges of living a single life.
As the night progresses into morning, before there is even a glimmer of light, I hear a single cardinal let out a tentative whistle; it is 4:18 a.m. A few minutes pass and he whistles again two notes. A similar response from one of the neighbors’ trees is heard, and they repeat as their little voices gain confidence.
Like tiny roosters they seem to be waking the other birds to the coming dawn. Gradually I hear the toning of the robins, clear trilling of wrens, beeping of nuthatches, the distinct chirp of chickadees, and finally pitching in are the jays, grackles, red-winged black birds and woodpeckers. It is a slow and steady rise like the sunlight, reaching a vibrant morning crescendo. I delight in their chorus forming a singular proclamation.
I am so caught up in their rising song that I have forgotten that I am in the middle of a rosary. And yet my song is rising with their voices. My song of prayer, my waking to The Light blends with their welcoming the dawn.
I wonder if God hears our prayers as I do the songs of these morning birds. At first a small single tentative voice, waking to new light, and as more prayers form, gaining confidence, clarity, diversity and strength. We voice a lively warbling from the melody in our souls. I wonder if God too delights in our boisterous crescendo of songs.