Caw, caw, caw, a crow flew overhead low and close, so close I heard the precise whoosh of his wings cutting through the air; it was not a gentle, meandering flight – the wing beats were firm and businesslike; he was a bird on a mission.
So, maybe that was why the chipmunks were edgy. They could be forgiven their touchiness, given the panic inducing reality of hawk fear.
Oh, yes. Hawk fear again.
as in, straight up toward…
whatever is up there.
(Mostly trees so far, because that is mostly what I can see.)
Something moves me when I see the way the lens curvature pulls the treetops inward
as if they would both hold the earth and frame the sky.
Your love is high.
Your love is long.
Your love is wide.
Your love is deeper than my view of grace,
Higher than this worldly place,
Longer than this road I travel,
Wider than the gap You fill.
Who shall separate us
Who shall separate us from your love
Nothing can separate us
Nothing can separate us from your love.
This worship song used to be a favorite in my church, in me. I'm not sure why we don't sing it anymore...it's still one of my vacuuming songs. (Singing my way through less favorite tasks is a long habit of mine…as is singing when I am really delighted, so you can’t always tell the difference…which might be the point.)
These words hold deep meaning for me, and I sing them that way, with gusto (over the sound of my vacuum, should you happen to stop by.)
So.much. truth. packed into these simple lyrics. So many dimensions to God's love:
Some days it’s a big relief to realize God’s love is deep, because life offers up some serious potholes, and I end up in them all too often. When I’m “in deep,” I have found this quote by Corrie ten Boom to be true:
His love is wide:
I feel like I might have always known that God’s love is wide…bridging the chasm that yawned open between Creator and created ones the first time the snake whispered and we listened. I think the sin nature becomes obvious to anyone who has ever raised a two-year-old, parented through the teen years, or looked into the mirror and caught a glimpse of the dark side.
I need a love wide enough to span that gap, and God offers it.
His love is long:
I have at times caught a hint of how long God’s love is, preceding my first breath of life by millennia, as evidenced in the words of David:
When you read those words,
when you wrote those words,
did your heart swell with warmth like mine does every single time I read this extravagant phrase?
My face cannot hold back a smile as I finger this line of pearl words and hold them close to my heart.
Oh, God, this love of yours,
it is truly a long love,
it is longer than the road I travel, longer than my years,
however long that may be.
I have come to trust that I cannot outlive that love.
Your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens,
your faithfulness to the clouds. Psalm 36:5
For your steadfast love is higher than the heavens,
and your faithfulness reaches to the clouds.
I think that's why the lens view of “up” has captured my attention. Those trees, hovering, those branches framing my view, somehow connect me to the sense that I too am held, that my world is framed with a Love whose dimensions I am only beginning to glimpse.
A love that is higher than “this worldly place,” this space of earth,
a love that takes in the sweep of my little life in this little place fraught with pits and chasms and hawk fear…
That would be one hawk-fear-banishing, extraordinary love.