Wasteland

Last Fall an owl moved into my backyard. 

I know precisely which day she moved in. 

My favorite time of day is the dark morning right around 5:00 a.m. I love it.

It took me about six years of discipline to get me there, but now my morning quiet time is one of my greatest joys.

So, the night the owl arrived, I was aware of it before the sun rose. 

 It hooted and carried on through my quiet time; disrupted and distracted me from the truth I was trying to gain.

Her song was a little haunting and it changed the tone of my morning, I was spooked.

On the third morning, I got this email in my in box from Cindy Bayer, a woman I have not met in the flesh, but who has hosted my husband and other members of my family in her homes in Israel. Her stories are worth reading.

 Jerusalem Journal #177

The Arabs have a descriptive word for this enigmatic night creature whose mournful cry pierces the darkness and whose vision scopes out even the tiniest field mouse. They call it,um elcharab, “the mother of ruins,” since owls are known to inhabit waste places, desert areas.

The Hebrew word for desert or wilderness is midbar. I love it that the root of this word means “to speak.” Throughout the Bible, God has spoken to His people in the desert or during wilderness times in their life. It was in my own desert that His whispers spoke the loudest and helped me keep my feet on the rocky pathway.

My neighborhood is well-lit even in the dark morning by street-lights and the occasional headlights of an early morning workout. I am surrounded by perfectly manicured homes insulated by the excessive comforts for which the Western world strives.

But there is a desert just beneath the shiny surface. 

And in the desert of this land a tiny, owl-shaped voice calls out, "prepare the way for The Lord".

I live in a wasteland that doesn't look much like a wasteland and I need the reminder that I am supposed to be preparing the way.

Thank you, Lord.