I often feel like a canary in a coal mine, chirping away as the world tilts, warning of change but also staying right where I am because, really, we canaries know something is wrong, but we rarely know exactly what it is.
This past week, the canary in my soul has been chirping nonstop, but of exactly what I do not know.
Maybe she’s warning about the pandemic or politics or connectedness or consumerism.
Maybe, but chaos around these topics exists always and forever, so why is my canary chirping so desperately right now?
Upon waking this morning, a single line was running through my head:
“A thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices”
On that Holy Night so long ago, a weary world rejoiced because of the promise of hope. In a world of political strife and people in need of healing and fear of the other, hope was born of a poor family one still morning among strangers.
My canary is still chirping, but her pitch has changed ever so slightly.
Pay attention, she says. The world needs you. Pay attention, she says. There is hope.