On this silent night, all was quiet and calm
My Sentiments Exactly
Most people don’t know this. Actually, I’m not sure anyone does — or they didn’t until now.
I’m a bit of an insomniac. That’s not the secret part. My poor sleep pattern is near legendary among my circle of humans, by the by.
No, the previously undisclosed info is that quite often when I’m unable to sleep in the wee small hours of zero dark whatevs, I will quietly walk outside to our back deck.
Sometimes the fresh air is welcome, just chilly enough to lower my core body temp to the point at which I can comfortably curl up beneath 472 blankets and finally drift off to sleep.
Sometimes, the air is so thick with humidity that a return back into the A/C is chilly enough to lower my core … well, yadda yadda.
What? I like to saw ZZZ’s under a nice comfy mountain of wool and flannel … even in the summer. Oh, except for my feet. If the tootsies are too warm, all bets are off.
Look, I never said it was a logical bedtime routine. I digress.
Sometimes, I step out there just to find out if that old moon is waxing or waning or harvest or blue. And if there’s any planetary alignment visible for us sleep-challenged stargazers.
But every single time, regardless of my bleary-eyed motivation, one constant remains: I always pray.
There’s nothing like a nice, still night for long-distance call to the Big Guy.
A few nights back, I was out there dialing when I heard them, a big old (literally) honking gaggle of geese flying in what I’m certain was a humongous V-formation trajectory.
“Weird,” I thought out loud. What made these bird-brains choose the dead of night to traipse from Point A to Point B?
Sure, the earthlings pile into their cars pre-dawn for long road trips to avoid, you know, the other earthlings on long road trips. But we have headlights and brake lamps, yo.
And just I squinted in vain to try to catch a goose glimpse, a hooting owl in the woods far behind my house joined in the chorus.
My silent night was getting quite noisy indeed.
After a bit, the honks and hoots developed a cadence of sorts.
“Also weird,” I told me. I mean, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear that smarty pants owl was directing traffic?
Then suddenly, the geese clammed up. BAM! Just like that. Mime city. Except for the owl, which hooted three more times.
And that’s when it hit me that we’re all sort of flying in the dark these days. Not because we want to but because the state of things is, by all accounts, um, super weird.
But the way out of the blackness is pretty clear: Follow directions from a wise voice.
Don’t you see? We’re the geese and Jesus is the owl.
He keeps telling us, “Just follow my voice; I’ll show you the way.” He is, in fact, the way … and the truth and the life.
That’s the message of Easter, which will never be canceled, you silly goose.
Bottom line? If we follow the right path, all will be well. Just believe. Pray. Have a little faith and continue to stay strong. We’re going to make it.
I say we listen to Him. After all, there’s no one wiser than the risen Christ.
I mean, there’s a reason the owl is the only one hooting in the end, capisce?
• Kimerer wishes a blessed Easter and happy Passover to all her fellow humans. Check out her open-all-night blog at www.patriciakimerer.com