I am awakened by the sound of chirping birds.
Rather unusual for me, because having only fallen asleep beyond 3:30AM the previous night – or should I say morning – it’d be logical for me to sleep like a log now.

But the chirping was loud, clear, distinct.
Loud enough to wake me up from my slumber.
I knew myself well enough and learnt enough from my past experiences that usually when this happens, I’ll probably (although not always) get something – a message, a view, whatever – out of the mundane and ordinary.

I slowly drag open my curtain with half opened eyes –

And I think to myself, “there’s nothing?”
If God was speaking to me, well it – it couldn’t be? Because I don’t get it!
Everything is normal, the sky is shades of pale blue and white, which is normal as this hour. Everything is… the usual. The ordinary.

I closed the curtains and was thinking of ways I could get rid of that ringing chirping sound in my ears when a still, small voice at the back of my head told me, “look again.”

I sighed to myself, opened the curtains again and this time, I put on my glasses.

I looked out my window and tried to find that annoying bird when this time, my ears were directed to a different sound – and hence my eyes followed.

The sound of numerous birds chirping in the morning.

The size of my window was perfect; I could see clearly in between two trees how swiftly the birds flew, calling in their flock. It was a sound that was so easily overlooked for the past (almost) two decades of my life, and is probably still very much overlooked in most.

But today my eyes were opened to a whole new wonder.

I was amazed at how beautifully the birds flew, it was like a motion picture put in front of an image showing daybreak – the sight of the sky slowly turning into hints of orange, blended in so well with the white and blue patches of this magnificent background.

The melody of their flapping wings were never this pleasant to my ears – never had this much clarity, and never this short of a natural musical.

And once my eyes and ears were open to this masterpiece, the loud, annoying chirping stopped. I could go back to my comfortable bubble called slumber.

Yet I remained standing at the window, in awe of this creation I missed every morning.

I recall my short rant to a friend last night, about how I felt I wasn’t using my words well enough to impact lives and how other people do it better; how I feel I have chosen the wrong path because of how rapidly others are progressing yet I am stagnant.

I expressed my concern, my anger, my frustration. If this is what I am supposed to do, why am I not moving forward? Why does all my effort always end up making me feel like all my progress has turned to dust?

God did not give me an answer right away – nor did He rebuke me with a sudden reference to a part of Scripture to shut me up. I was met with gentle silence, yet this morning my questions were answered.

Those two very simple words: “look again.” And I was reminded of His faithfulness, how He used the simple sound of a chirping bird to open my eyes to the wonder that is His creation – and remind me that I, too, am His.

Yes, I did not get direct answers – but the act of me writing now and the drive for me to write is definitely by grace – it is an answer. An answer to my questioning of whether my words really speak enough, and whether they really do convey what I am supposed to convey.

As I type I hear the sound of birds slowly turning into loud human chatter between father and child, telling his son to rush as they are running late; the chirping shifting to the occasional honks or loud engine sounds as cars drive past and the silence of daybreak exchanged by the sound of my very own father waking up and moving about.

But one thing I know: the chirping this morning was not by coincidence.

The waves and winds know His name;
even the birds obey His commands.

And His mercies, truly, truly are new every morning.