Cry

 

At this time of year, the gulls who nest on the cliff-like tall buildings of the city centre are at their most raucous. Juveniles calling to their mothers, mother gulls calling to their young. It is loud and incessant and totally lacking the musicality of garden bird song; and it is the easiest thing in the world to allow ourselves to be irritated by it.

And so today, I made the conscious decision to decline the invitation to irritation, to say no to irritability, and, instead, to listen, to pay attention, in hope of hearing what I was missing.

As my ear attuned itself, what I heard was the sound of dependency, and the responding sound of encouragement. Utterances expressing something deeper than words (or tune) can express.

What I heard was the cry of the heart of all creation—including but so much more than the cry of the human heart—and the corresponding call of the heart of God.