"Why are you up so early, baby, it's Spring Break!?"
"The birds woke me up, Mommy."
"They woke me up too!"
The birds are downright loud around our house. I don't know all their names, but I do know the male cardinals, the sparrows, the finches, the killdeer and redwings. Their songs echo in the woods every morning, rousing me from sleep better than any alarm. It's not a symphony, it's a cacophony, like the tuning before the music begins.
How can I complain? After winter's gray, muffling blanket silenced them or sent them away, how can I be upset that the birds are singing as loud as they can possibly sing? So they wake me up? Why would I want to sleep through spring?
True blessings seem to be those that wake me up a little. The peace they bring is beyond understanding, because it is peace that pushes and entices me into a new place. It's not the peace of complacency, it is the peace of growing things.
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