One Wednesday morning, not that long ago, I was sitting at my desk early in the morning. As I peered out my window, I noticed that it was a bit foggy outside – not a usual thing for mid November.
While I was working away, I heard the distinct sound of fog horns. The timbre of the horns sent a wave of melancholy through me. I had a sense of aloneness but not loneliness, like I was the only person awake in the world at that point in time, yet God was hovering near. It felt like one of the “thin times” between me and God. The sound seemed to travel for miles and miles, almost like an echo.
I am not certain how far along the Seaway the ship was before I couldn’t hear the sound of the fog horn any longer but it sure seemed like quite some time had passed.
Later on in the day, I was sitting in the kitchen having a cup of tea, and I heard the clear sound of a helicopter flying over. For some reason, that I have yet been able to figure out, I am fascinated by the sound and sight of helicopters. So I rushed outside to look for it.
There I saw a very large chopper flying west. It wasn’t one of the recognizable orange helicopters that indicate someone being air-lifted to a hospital. It appeared to be a military helicopter that might well have been heading to CFB Trenton.
As I looked up, I wondered about the people who were in that aircraft, marvelled at the fact that such an odd shaped machine could actually stay up in the air, prayed that they travelled safely to their destination and gave thanks that it wasn’t someone being flown to a hospital.
Sometime that afternoon, I was walking across the lawn returning home from the church when a small flock of geese flew overhead. There were only about eight or 10 birds flying and only one of them was honking as they flew.
It wasn’t the noise of the call of that one lone bird that caught my attention so much as the sound of the air rushing through their wings. It sounded like a swoosh with every beat of their wings. The sound from such a few birds was quite loud so I can only imagine what it would sound like with some of the larger flocks that I see in the sky from time to time. Swoosh.
. . .that reminded me of how I thought Holy Spirit would sound when I was a little girl. The presence of God was evident to me once again that day.
As I think back on that day, I am reminded that we are blessed in so many ways. Being blessed with the ability to hear those sounds is something that I give thanks for because there are so many people in our world, our community, who cannot hear these things.
Each time I was drawn away from my own thoughts to the world around me and I found myself entering into a time of prayer, drawing closer to God – marvelling at all of creation. The sounds of this November are not something that I will forget any time soon. Thanks be to God!