Tuesday, February 8, 2022

            In the summer, when I hear birds calling back and forth across the yard, I sometimes make believe they’re calling me. “Hello, Ham,” I hear them saying, “pay attention to what’s happening. Don’t miss this amazing day.” There are other calls that seem to come to me: the call of trees around our house as they wave in the wind and want me to watch them carefully; the call of the pendulum clock on the wall in our living room as it ticks and tells me to make the most of all the moments; the call of a clementine on the counter to come and enjoy its juiciness. As a teenager, I was encouraged to listen for the call to the ministry from a God who seemed to reside somewhere in the sky, but since then I’ve found another God, the One that lives in all of us, including birds and trees and clocks and clementines, the One that loves to let me know about the beauty of each newborn moment, the One that calls to me to see the sacredness of everything. Those are the calls I’m listening for on these effusive and satisfying senior days.