“Awe is an intuition for the creaturely dignity of all things and their preciousness to God; a realization that things not only are what they are but also stand . . . for something supreme. Awe is a sense for transcendence, for the reference everywhere to mystery beyond all things.” Abraham Joshua Heschel

Music has always been a balm for my soul, and birds a gentle reminder of God’s enduring love. So when music and birds came together in a memorable experience, I believe it was a certain blessing from God.

The past several months have been stressful—writing deadlines, financial woes, medical tests, concerns about family members. When I am in one of these dark periods of life, I sometimes retreat to my piano to play some comforting hymns. 

One of my favorite hymnodists is William Cowper, an Englishman who lived in the 1700s.  During the darkest times of my life his music has always calmed my soul though I was never quite sure why, until I read more about him in a lovely book of hymns entitled, Then Sings My Soul. The author, Robert Morgan, wrote, “William Cowper is one of God’s gracious gifts to those suffering from depression. Like the Psalmist who cried, ‘Why are you cast down, O my soul?’ Cowper shows us that our emotional struggles often give us heightened sensitivity to the heart of God and to the needs of others.”

Whenever I hear his words and music I am reminded of why they resonate so deeply within me. He, like I, had succumbed to a prolonged and severe bout with depression. But in that darkness, under the care of a dedicated Christian doctor, William began to recover and, while reading scripture, found a spiritual foundation in Christ that would sustain his life.

Sitting at the piano during a particularly difficult day last month, when recurring pain was causing me to focus on my weaknesses, I opened the hymn book to one of William’s pieces, “O for a Closer Walk with God.” As I began to play my eyes rested on the verse, “Return, O holy Dove, return Sweet messenger of rest! I hate the sins that made Thee mourn, and drove Thee from my breast.” My throat tightened.

In those moments of weakness, when we lose sight of our divine nature, it is easy to lose sight of God, as well. We begin to believe that we are walking our path alone, and such a belief may cause us the greatest pain. In those moments, it is most important to turn to God in prayer.

Later that day, as I was sitting at the table doing just that, I was startled by a loud fluttering of wings. Looking up I saw a graceful, grey dove sitting on the back of the lounge chair opposite me, unperturbed by my presence and tilting his head from side to side as he appeared to be observing my face. All I could do was smile in awe and gratitude.

This is not the first time a dove has been a messenger of rest for me. They visit me almost daily when I am writing at the shore, and my sons have brought more than one injured bird home for rehabilitation. We even kept a cage on the deck, just in case.

Now my sons are grown and the number of small animal guests has dwindled to almost none. But the cage remains where it was, reminding me of the gift, and affirming for me the last verse of William’s hymn: “So shall my walk be close with God. Calm and serene my frame, so purer light shall mark the road that leads me to the Lamb.”