I'm notorious for misunderstanding song lyrics. When I was a kid, we three kids cleaned house with mom every Saturday. She had a variety of records to keep us chugging along. I cleaned toilets to Helen Reddy's "I am woman hear my roar." I vacuumed carpets to the sweet gospel stylings of the Statler Brothers. Our family favorite on cleaning day, however, was Kenny Rogers' Greatest Hits.
As a teenager on a long family car trip, "Lucille" came on the radio and we all sang along. "You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille," I sang at the top of my voice. "Four hundred children and a crop in the field." For years, I'd never stopped to wonder why Lucille had 400 children rather than four hungry children. My siblings tease me to this day.
Yesterday, after the out of town folks headed for their own cities, I took a long nap. When I woke, my girl was going stir crazy in the house. I could have donned winter apparel and taken her out to play in the snow, but I'm not a fan of snow. Instead, we threw on our coats and took off for the movie theater. She saw "Wreck It Ralph" the day before Thanksgiving and more than happy to see it again.
A week ago my car battery completely drained, and since then the stereo is temporarily (I hope) broken, so we drove in silence for a bit. My mind wandered to all of the things I need to accomplish before returning to work on Monday. I need to clean our house. I need to clean my office. I need to write lectures and test questions, take the cat to the vet, return a pair of shoes to Amazon via UPS, call the car dealer to see if I can recover the code so I can listen to my car radio again....sigh. So much to do, so little time.
From the backseat, I heard a familiar tune. Daughter, whose only volume is loud, belted out the following: "Come bring your birdies to God. Come bring your birdies to God. Come bring your birdies to God, for Jesus will never say no."
"Sweetheart, it's not 'birdies,' it's 'burdens,'" I said, watching for her response in the rearview mirror.
She put her on grumpy face, lower lip jutted out, brows furrowed. "I like to say 'birdies.'"
So be it. God spoke to me through my child, and I gave my birdies to Him. Thanks to that two hour nap yesterday and a large Diet Coke at a late afternoon movie, I didn't sleep last night. As I lay in bed for hours, praying for unconsciousness, I remembered that loud voice singing in my car. "Come bring your birdies to God...for Jesus will never say no." Amen.
Listen - it's healing.