I love waking up to the sound of mockingbirds exuberantly greeting the morning as though it was theirs was the First Song of Creation. They are birds of the air, and just like the lilies of the field they are here today and gone tomorrow. Humans are the only species that assign permanence to this place and are arrogant enough to believe they will be here today, or even this afternoon.
One morning I forced myself to sit on the deck and read. However, I was distracted by a mockingbird in a willow tree. The previous owner planted a stretch of willows two-tenths of a mile long in hopes of drying up a low-lying field. This tree has endured while several of its sister trees have gone the way of the chainsaw. Willow is a soft wood and after a few years of neglect this tree has gangly, with an out-of-control appearance. This is a wild tree; its upper branches scarred with the pock-marks of woodpeckers in search of insects. The branches jut up and over the rest of the tree like a skeletal limb: denuded of flesh, sinew, and leaves. To some, the tree is a nuisance. I saw a survivor, proudly flaunting its unattractive appendages; like Ahab's leg.
On top of the dead trunk sat a mockingbird, trilling its way through the morning rejoicing in its moment of life. It flew from tree to tree, yet always returned triumphantly to the willow. It always lighted on the uppermost point of the tree. He chose the ugly tree for his pulpit and shared his sermon of song.
There were lessons to be learned by listening to the mockingbird. Rejoice in this exact moment of your existence. Find joy in the small things. Don't despise or avoid the ugly places in life, for that is where you find the greatest fulfillment and purpose. Do not be afraid to stand on the pinnacle, no matter how treacherous and unpredictable it might appear. Sing your song with love and courage; sending it out into the world and up to its Creator.
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