Is there anything more sad and mournful than the cry of a dove? I love listening to the birds wake up in the mornings, like it’s just me and them, alone and awake. Bird songs are beautiful and bright, each variety of bird having a unique song to sing. But doves? Theirs is different. More of a melancholy cry… Not really a song at all.
All spring long we have watched a dove in the star magnolia outside the kitchen window build her nest and take diligent care of her eggs. Through snow and rain, she was there, even tolerating me as I tried to take pictures through the window… A peak into her private life.
Later in the spring we lost the ability to see her through the window. The leaves on the magnolia got too large and thick, obscuring our vision. But isn’t that why she picked that spot for her nest? About the time for the eggs to hatch, we could no longer see her. I know this precious dove is grateful for the privacy and security coming in the nick of time, but I felt a little sad that I couldn’t get any more pictures and be sure she was okay.
I still watch out the window for a glimpse of her or the babies. Of course, I never see them… They’re too well hidden, too well protected. But I do hear them and their mournful cry. I listen for them! When I sit in my porch swing, I hear their cry underneath the songs of all the finches, wrens, mockingbirds, jays, robins, blackbirds, and so many others. It stands out to me. I know their coo and cry so well, I hear it before I hear the others.
I imaging that’s how God is with us. He has watched over us and loved us with an everlasting love. And even if we don’t know He is there, He sees how we are building our home, taking care of our families, feeding our kids, weathering the storms of our lives. He knows us, He knows our voice. He listens for us… Waiting to hear us when we cry to Him.
I will never hear the doves cry again without thanking God for watching over me, loving me, caring for me, listening for my voice.