“‘As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them on her wings: So the LORD alone did lead him, and there was no strange god with him,’(1) Rev. Pell read. ‘Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD, my strength, and my redeemer.’(2)
“Turn to Deuteronomy 32, verse 11,” Rev. Pell says.
Cough. Cough. Pages rustle.
“No one prays for a lion’s den, a fiery furnace, for Judas, for the Cross,” Rev. Pell says. “We pray for help, relief, to avoid or at least escape hardship. But one day, God sees that we’ve grown a little older. And He stirs up the nest and pushes us out to fly. God uses struggle to make us stronger. He doesn’t work under the limitations that we do.”
His words make pictures in my mind of a giant eagle pushing me out of my nest. My back hurts. I am tired. I stare at my shoes and lay my head on my Friend’s shoulder.
“Struggles leave us screeching like a young eaglet tipped from the nest. But then we rise in joy on wings that have been strong when we thought we were falling. Because “they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”
Rev. Pell continues, “The new development has been difficult for all of us. So many have moved away and our church is struggling. Calvary Baptist is also struggling. We’ve met and prayed with their pastors and deacons. We really believe God is calling us to join both churches into one. Over the coming weeks we’ll be working to bring us all together.”
“Don’t dawdle,” the woman says to our retreating backs as we go to change out of our church clothes. “We’re going to watch a movie after lunch.”
After fried Spam sandwiches, we find places in the living room. I sit tailor fashion on the floor. The beautiful Lady visits to Bernadette.
“Don’t sit so close to the TV.”
“What’s wrong with you?” the man asks. “Why are you so jumpy? What mischief are you plotting?”
I remain silent. The image of a woman whose face looks like mine haunts me. Her scent fills my nose. Heavy, dark hair ripples down her back. She sings; I can almost hear the music.
Gerard asks, “Can Mary come to earth as God’s messenger?”
The man says, “Yes, if God wills it.”