I find myself today thinking, oddly, about joy. I say oddly because I am just coming out of the deepest, darkest of winter- an annual journey through the worst of my chronic depression. And we are on a course headed for Lent, landing quite soon, which for me does not usually inspire thoughts of joy. So, why joy?
As I looked out my kitchen window this morning, I saw our orphan Hungarian partridge under one of the bird-feeders, pecking away at the seeds scattered on the ground carelessly by the other birds who had fed at the feeder above. I found myself asking why this wounded bird, handicapped by an injured leg, would still have the will to eat, to stay alive?
I don’t know how much you know about these birds but they live in herds (not sure if that is what you call a group of Hungarian partridges, but when a dozen land in your yard all at once, believe me, they look like a herd!) When the group is feeding, one always takes on the role of “lookout”, to ensure the safety of the others. When they move, they move together. I noticed that there was always an even number of birds, and in the spring, they separate out in pairs, going their own ways to nest and have their young.
Now here is this single bird, and I wonder if he is lonely, and again, how he can continue to exist without his companions. Then it comes to me, suddenly, unbidden: he IS, and for him, it is enough to find food and enjoy the fullness, to find sanctuary in our yard and feel safe, and, who knows, maybe even find delight in the company of the other birds that he could not mingle with when with he was bound to his own kind. (This is all just conjecture of course, as who knows what goes on in the mind of a bird.) For him, the meaning and joy of life is in the living of it.
On my daily walk through the neighbourhood a little later, I wonder, what if joy were a verb? Then I pass beneath the pine grove in one of the parks near the end of my walk, and the rising sun casts its glorious golden light on my world… and I JOY.
And I feel resurrection, out of season.
Thanks be to God!
Thank you for illuminating my thoughts this morning with Hope and joy. I have been in grief with a friend who recently lost her husband, so I shared this blog with her and pray she will find joy even in the valley of the shadow of death. Amen.
It was not easy for me to share Joan, but knowing it has touched someone in a good way makes it worth it. I will pray for your friend.
I “joy” with you, Kathy! This was a vulnerable and brave sharing; depression is not an easy companion. For some reason I find the image of a “herd” of Hungarian partridges very consoling; resurrection out of season is the best kind, eh!
Recently I hard the terms “contemplative ecology” and “Eco-contemplatives”. Your experience with the orphan Hungarian partridge, your “long, loving look” at life unfolding in your backyard, strikes me as a moment of Eco-contemplation. Which enabled you to Joy!! And me with you.