Eagles nest in a tree that belongs to my neighbor. While the aerie is difficult to see, the sounds made by the eagles are all too audible. They quarrel all day long, picking fights over bits of fish or crabs, angry over one’s dominance of the nest, resentful of authority or nesting privileges. I hear them squawk back and forth, their voices human-like as they hurl insults into the bay’s skies. “I didn’t—you did!”, they scream, sometimes several talking at the same time, no one hearing the other. Woefully I think perhaps they sound like we do, screeching and blaming, accusing and insulting. Do we sound like that, I wonder? Are our voices too often raised in anger rather than praise? Forgive me, Father, for using my voice to find insult rather than compliment. May those who hear me never thing, “An eagle’s angry again!”—may others be aware only of a voice raised in praise and joy over the world you’ve created. Amen.
Eagles nest in a tree that belongs to my neighbor. While the aerie is difficult to see, the sounds made by the eagles are all too audible. They quarrel all day long, picking fights over bits of fish or crabs, angry over one’s dominance of the nest, resentful of authority or nesting privileges. I hear them squawk back and forth, their voices human-like as they hurl insults into the bay’s skies. “I didn’t—you did!”, they scream, sometimes several talking at the same time, no one hearing the other. Woefully I think perhaps they sound like we do, screeching and blaming, accusing and insulting. Do we sound like that, I wonder? Are our voices too often raised in anger rather than praise? Forgive me, Father, for using my voice to find insult rather than compliment. May those who hear me never thing, “An eagle’s angry again!”—may others be aware only of a voice raised in praise and joy over the world you’ve created. Amen.
