My cat is named, Sweet Pea.
She was outside for the first time in a while recently
(we’re trying to spare the song birds)
But once in a while
Under careful supervision
We let her out to feel the sunshine unpaned by glass,
Free to tap her inner lion by nibbling on green grass.
Suddenly, a strong breeze kicked up,
but she had forgotten what it was like to feel the wind.
Can you imagine?
A look of panic crept into her eyes.
She looked at me, and howled,
“Hey, why is it doing that? Make it stop!”
Not at her distress,
But at the wonder in the womb of her surprise.
I loved watching her recognize the bigness of the wind,
the mystery of the elemental side of life.
I make her wind face at so many things.
I’d like to think God is
that which smiles and says, “It’s only the wind!”
which is me…
which is you.
Play in it.
Fall into it.
It will hold you.
We ask all kinds of “Why” questions
But those kind of questions don’t have much use
in a world full of wind.
No, “How” questions are far better.
How shall I live?
Shall I build a sail? A windmill? A balloon?
Shall I take cover? Crawl low along the ground? Open my arms and try to fly?
Or just let it run recklessly through my hair?
“But, one more thing. Let the birds be. I worked hard on them,”
calling each of us,
Rob McClellan is serving as a transitional pastor at Tabernacle Church in Philadelphia. Originally from the Mid-west, Rob has degrees in communications, philanthropy, rhetoric, and divinity. He enjoys music, the outdoors, and anything Mary Oliver has written. He is married, a proud kitty parent and is expecting his first child in October.