I spun like a crazed woman on a treadmill, except for the fact that I was actually on an elliptical. My arms moved as if they were ready to punch the world right out of my way. My eyes focused as if I was really going to finally get myself somewhere. My legs moved trying to knee pressing issues right out of the way.
I was the wild gym-goer -
the girl trying to force herself to new ground -
ground that was unattainable to get to.
I kept spinning. Spinning worries. Spinning problems. Spinning up things that could go wrong. Building a whole lot of motion that was moving me nowhere.
In my mind's dictionary, it means:
1. Trying to force yourself to go, make progress or get ahead.
In the dictionary of classical mechanics (which, I know by heart - joke!), it means:
1. A body either is at rest or moves with constant velocity, until and unless an outer force is applied to it.
An outer force? There was no outer force around me, just an inner force, an inner force of doubt driving my pursuits.
I didn't trust "Outer Force" would work on my timeline, or according to my demands or with my outcome. God may have some answer like, "Kelly, wait." Or, "Kelly, my will is being done."
I get frustrated with those kinds of answers. I get internally irate and put an arm up - choosing worry over wonder.
Pumping. Sweating. Pressing in - to my more. I considered God.
And, as if the clouds parted and my mind hit some new parallel of peace, it landed - softly.
I watched him through the giant window. Chilling. Eating. Laughing, almost, at me. He came to teach me something.
10 Lessons Taught by A Bird:
1. Don't ever forget this verse when you start to worry: Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? (Mt. 6:26)
2. God doesn't look at his answers for us as limited, but unlimited. Just as the birds pluck for ample food on the ground, so does God have ample food for me.
3. Life is not feast or famine; it is a continual feast I have to choose to believe in. The birds don't walk heads down, they walk heads high, knowing God is right about ready to deliver them to their next feed.
4. It doesn't matter what everyone else has.
God has intentionally mined the ground with "glorious riches in Christ Jesus" meant just for me. (Phil 4:19)
5. There is no need to bump up against other people who don't do what they should. God has them on their own path for food and joy.
6. There is an invitation by God to frolic and fancy life. In between his great providence, there is a game of "chase" going. We can join in like a little baby bird, who knows life is short and troubles pass.
7. What looks like a dark, vast covering of trees before you, is really just a call to adventure. It is the place you fly into knowing that God is going to take you on a ride that will thrill you. You just have to grab onto his carpet and let him lead.
8. Be present and be calm. Birds don't have one dang concern about pending storms or world issues. I don't see them building bunkers or walking around with defensive artillery. It seems they let go of threats that surround them - and let God ground them.
9. To see God everywhere is to see peace, joy and answers abound. Birds keep looking. They move their head left and right like little pendulums. Somehow, I guess, they are soaking things in.
10. We see life through the vantage point of me, myself and I, yet God's view is sky-high - like a bird sees. There are things up there we can't see. Probably, things that would blow our mind - disappointments that were used by God to create divine appointments, things like that. It's a symphony of eternity; it reverberates beyond us.
These birds. They speak to me - almost - singing, "You gotta trust the bird's eye view to get through."
My velocity and intensity settle. My arms feel like they can finally be - at rest. I look and soak it all in.
God has this.