The Write Word

Birdy-Boys Song

I first heard his song this past spring.  It was not the sweet melodic sound most birds make.  No, this one was different.  It was a brash chiriping, arrogant and proudful. And why shouldn't it be?  Just look at all he had.  Perched on the highest peak of the roof, he was master of all he surveyed.  When other birds would come near he hopped about loudly proclaiming "MINE", in birdy chirps, warning them off of HIS house.  And to him, it is HIS house.  His because he lives here, has staked claim on it, has built a nest with his own beak.

Never mind the facts of the matter.  Facts like he is only here because I let him be here.  Here because Honey Pie pays the mortgage bill, taxes, maintenance and the numerous costs that come with ownership.  No, birdie-boy thinks he owns the place.  One really strong wind, one serious hail storm and his carefully constructed nest is history.  He has no idea of just how close he is, at any time, of being left with what he ACTUALLY owns, nothing.

How often have we been in the same place?  Happily, proudly, hopping about through life.  Feeling secure in the things we sing out as "MINE"?  My house, my spouse, my family, my job, my health, my body, my mind, my, my, my, my.  

Oh really?

Lose the ability to pay for it or keep it up and that house is gone.  Spouses, children, family, ours?  Not really.  Spouses are ours only as long as they decide to stay with us, or as long as breath is given to them.  Children, not really ours either.  They are merely on loan from God for the short short time of our/their lifespan, then they will return to whom they really belong.  

Our bodies, mind and health, time and age will claim them all.  As the song writer says, "Father Time is undefeated, one day he's gonna get us all".   Yet we sing right along with birdy-boy, "MINE MINE MINE", dancing along to the sound of our own song.  Unaware that like birdy-boy, we own nothing.

The song "Mine" should be sung "Yours".  Yours, Lord.  Everything.  The spouse, yours.  The children, yours.  The house, car, bank account, yours.  My body, yours.  My mind, yours.  My past, yours.  My future, yours.  

Our bodies belong to the ground from where they came and most assuredly to where they will return.  Our very breath is on loan from God.  It would do us well to reconsider our position in life.  Realizing that if we lose it all, we are merely left with what we had to begin with.  Naked we came into this world, naked we shall all leave it.  

The only thing we will take with us through the door of the grave is our choices.  The good, the bad, the ugly.  Choices to serve sin and self, or choices to yield to God's law.  Like birdy-boy we will sing a song throughout eternity.  A song of praise or a lament of regret...but sing we will.  Eternity's song will be the refrain we sang here, in practice, the song, "Mine" or "Yours".