Migration

I've been enjoying robins in my backyard the past several weeks. Huge flocks, hundreds at a time, alight on the winter brown grass to load up on my backyard worms. Robins aren't native to Louisiana. They're migrating; following their innate call to journey north for the summer.

Seeing these robins, as well as many other species of migrating birds, causes me to pause and think about my own journey. Is not life itself one long continuous migration? For without a sense of journey, there'd be no adventure, no joy, no new exciting experiences, no stories. No purpose. Where am I being called to go, not only physically, but spiritually, relationally? What am I called to do?

Today, only a few straggler robins remain in the yard. The majority have flown northward, continuing their journey. Did the dawdlers sleep in the morning their flock took flight? Or might they be the wise birds, intuitively aware that it's still cold and snowy up north, the ground still frozen? In due time, they'll find their way. How about you? Where are you going?