What if the Spirit of God just appeared to me
right now, and it was in a flock of wild turkeys?
I awoke and, lying in my bed, heard something
magical and mysterious – unexpected.
Looking out my window, they were everywhere.
10 or 15 little ones. 1… 2…no 3 elders, watching protectively.
As I hastily pulled the blinds, they rushed away
down the path towards a more peaceful setting.
The turkey’s body, let’s be clear,
is not majestic or powerful.
They wander and peck rather humbly,
scatter quite ungracefully when frightened,
do not impress with beauty or harmonious song.
The Holy also meanders quietly up to us,
as we’re distracted with many things;
doesn’t interrupt, but lets us sense the presence;
takes on a form we weren’t expecting;
can be displaced by our busyness and hurry.
If we stop, quiet ourselves, and wait expectantly,
what meaning will be revealed,
what gift presented – a feather left in the path,
a vision to carry with us on our journey.
Photo by Sam Ebersole on Unsplash
