I tried to convince my son this weekend that all sound is prayer. We were listening to birds chirping and singing on Sunday morning and he asked if I knew what kind of birds they were. I am not good with birds, I told him I wasn’t sure, but I knew they were praying. That made him wrinkle up his face, look at me like I was crazy and then shake his head; all in rapid succession.
I smiled and I asked him what the birds were singing about.
“Stuff,” he says.
“What kind of stuff?”
“I don’t know. Food, water – where to find bugs and other birds. Stuff,” he states, as if it is all just a matter of fact.
“So they are all praying then, I get it,” I say walking back in to the house.
“What are you talking about?” he asks a step behind me.
“You just told me that they were telling each other about bugs, water, where food is and other birds. Right?”
This only gets another incredulous smile out of him. I can see he is thinking that I am crazy again. He thinks that a lot.
“Listen to them. They are in a good mood, right? They are happy. The sun is shining, the skies are blue and there is plenty to eat. They are thanking the Creator for their bounty.”
With that I went back in to the house, but he stopped, turned around and looked in to the trees. I hope he was seeing this time, not just looking like he normally would.
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