The crickets are singing as I sit at the computer and compose my thoughts. In China or Japan the cricket is considered good luck. For whatever reason they think that, I have no idea. Nonetheless, I find their company rather soothing. A cricket's chirping brings back memories of other years and experiences that are now a part of who I've become.
My mother-in-law was driven to distraction by a cricket serenading her from the basement. She would instantly leap to her feet to go on a search and destroy mission. However, the cricket would usually elude her and continue to lead her forward, farther and farther from the original sound - rather like a minute pied piper. Perhaps that's why the Asian people consider the cricket to be good luck - they can evade destruction by going silent, only to erupt again into blazing song when the hunter has passed them by.
Bernie and I arrived back home last night after returning to Iowa to celebrate my Dad's 81st birthday. The fact that he is still with us means that he is rather like the cricket. He, too, has eluded the hunter for many years and he continues to sing. He was singing this weekend.
When I was a child, he and I would sit in the living room, late at night, and sing to the songs on "Hit Parade" or we would follow the "bouncing ball" and sing along with Mitch. We would sing in the car on our travels. We encouraged the harvest moon to shine on. We pretended we were cajuns and sang about jambalaya and crawfish pie. He would croon to me that I was his sunshine. For many years he did not sing and I missed it.
The Bible makes great importance about music. David sang songs to the Lord when he was in the fields learning about God and about shepherding. Paul and Silas sang praises to the Lord while they were imprisoned and the walls of their imprisonment collapsed. They and everyone in prison with them were released when they sang.
My Dad, the cricket, is learning to sing again so that he is not bound by the walls around him. The ways of God are antithetical to the natural ways which we think. Dad has struggled with depression in his life, but as long as he sings, the walls of his now shrinking world will continue to expand. His life is a miracle. He shares a birthday with a sister who died while she was in her childhood. He had his first heart attack when he was 45 and yet he has outlived his first beloved wife by 20 years. It has not been easy, but then, miracles are never easy. We just think they are easy because we rejoice in the end results. However, miracles come about through great cost. My Dad always told me, "Vicky, there are no free lunches." And he is right.
My quest continues to be: finding joy in the small things of life. It is in that quest that true happiness lies. And that, to me, is the mark of a successful life.
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2 comments:
Vicky, this is such an uplifting essay! I, too, love the chirp of a cricket and it brings back such memories of summers at my Grandma's farm where it seemed we were surrounded by thousands upon thousands of crickets, all joined in a glorious chorus of song. The fact that the crickets chirped meant the land was undisturbed and there was peace and safety even in the darkness. How glad I am to hear that your dad has found his voice to sing again! Did you quote Madame Guyon's poem about the caged bird that sings earlier in this blog?
Alissa's little chihuahua is a mighty hunter of crickets. He devotes himself to the hunt as thoroughly as a lion or tiger would to his prey of water buffalo or elk. This fall, he has become almost obsessed with the search for crickets when he goes outside. His intensity amazes me! But his world is devoted to the tiny details most of us would miss. A seed on the sidewalk is cause for him to stop and examine, touch and taste! A pile of leaves becomes a glorious cause for a rolic of crackling and crunching fun! Being only two pounds, Duckit lives in a world that most of us miss and yet, like the cricket, he reminds us to take the time to look for those small details in life that can bring so much joy! Thank you for causing me to pause and remember not to miss these things, too, in the busyness of the day's demands.
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