Great Expectations

Ernest Hemingway gave this bit of advice to writers: “Write the truest sentence you know.” I sit at my computer tonight, and this is the truest sentence I know: I am so weary. So very weary.  Exhausted at a bone-deep level. I had back surgery two weeks ago today, and the recovery has been difficult, to say the least. Even my soul feels drained of energy. I know there are many of you out there feeling the same, in these strange and stressful times. So instead of writing just yet, I click over to a website that always comforts me—the eagles.  Watching them has become a nightly ritual for me.

The website live streams a view of an eagle’s nest in Decorah, Iowa. I’ve watched this pair of bald eagles for a few years now. I’ve seen the mother and father eagle take turns incubating the eggs. I’ve seen the eggs hatch. And I’ve watched their babies grow, leave the nest, and fly. Lately, I watch the eagles because I find comfort there. These birds don’t know about a virus or quarantine. They just keep doing what God made them to do. The eggs haven’t hatched yet this year, but when they do, I’ll see ferocity turn to tenderness as the enormous eagles care for their babies. When the babies need to sleep, the mom or dad gathers them under their wings until they’re completely hidden. Then they rock back and forth for a few minutes to put the babies to sleep. I remember watching last year as one of the babies popped out for a minute, the fuzz on his little body stirred by what must have been a bitterly cold wind. The mom or dad eagle gently tucked the baby back underneath, rocked back and forth for a couple of minutes, then settled and went to sleep.

I thought of Psalm 91:4: “He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings. His faithful promises are your armor and protection.” My weary soul stirred as I pictured myself like that baby eagle, popping out from underneath its parent, awake in the night. I felt God saying, “No, no, no. Get back underneath my wings, Renee. I’ll shelter you, protect you, and keep you safe and warm. It’s time to rest.” I felt myself settle as I thought of another verse that has been a comfort to me my whole life: “But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:31)

The first part of that verse is the hardest part for me to do—to wait upon the Lord. I don’t want to wait.  I want a quick fix. I always start to panic when I’m in waiting mode. But I discovered something in the verse I just mentioned that has helped me immensely: the word for “wait upon” is derived from the Hebrew word “qavah,” which means to wait with expectant hope. This isn’t passive waiting. This is waiting and listening and watching, preparing for whatever will come next. God reminds me of a familiar verse: “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” (Matt. 11:28)  My soul takes its first deep breath in a long while when I remember that I can let go of my burdens and rest in the shelter of His wings.  There, my strength is renewed, and I can wait expectantly for the second part of Isaiah 40:31.

This part says, “they shall mount up with wings as eagles.” The phrase “mount up” is from the Hebrew word alah, which means to go up, to ascend; it doesn’t mean to simply fly—it includes the takeoff.  I’ve watched the eagles take off from their nest. They sit up, their eyes focus intensely, they flap their wings a bit, and they mount up—they take off and fly.  Eagles take off with more vigor and power than any other bird and ascend higher. This is what I’m waiting for, with great expectation and hope. I’m waiting for God to give me the strength to mount up—to use His power in me to help me to take off, ascend, and soar.  I have absolute confidence that He’ll give me that strength when He’s ready for me to have it.

So tonight as I watch the eagles, I realize I’m ready to revise my “Hemingway sentence.” This is the truest sentence I know tonight:  I’m weary but filled with hope as I wait for God to once again enable me to mount up and soar. I choose to view this particular time of waiting, this quarantine, this sheltering at home, as a forced timeout—a grace period that God has given me in which to rest my weary soul. The time will come when I get to experience again the last part of Isaiah 40:31: “they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”  It’s very hard to imagine that tonight—walking and running without weariness. So I don’t imagine it. I REMEMBER it. I remember all of the times when I’ve waited in the past. And I remember all of the times that God said to me, “It’s time to mount up, Renee”—all of the times that He gave me His strength to take off and fly higher than I ever had before. I remember, and I wait. With the greatest of expectations, I wait.