I woke up to the sound of the wind blowing hard against the house. And almost immediately I remembered that in Hebrew the word for wind is the same as the word for Spirit. I love knowing that because it helps me pay attention to Sacred Presence in random, ordinary, mundane moments, like waking up to a wind storm. In this case I responded by writing a haiku (one of the ways I process the experience of Sacred Presence). 

the wind is blowing 
perhaps it is the Spirit 
I’ll try to listen 

I’m not sure what Spirit might be trying to say to me today, but apparently I need to keep listening because the wind has been blowing hard, and loud, and persistent all day long. On several occasions I have found myself feeling anxious as the windows rattle and the trees in the yard sway ominously. But then I remember my haiku and I turn my attention once again to listening. 

What message from Spirit do I need to hear in this moment? What is preventing me from hearing that message? And why am I feeling anxious about Spirit’s persistent efforts to get through to me? The answer to all three questions is the same – “I don’t know!” I don’t even know if it’s Spirit. It might just be the weather. Except that even if it’s “just” the weather it’s probably also Spirit, because that’s how Spirit speaks. God speaks through the ordinary stuff of our lives, in a language that sounds remarkably similar to the wind, or the rain, or a friend’s voice, or a baby’s cry, or the stillness at dawn. The trick to understanding is to pay attention and slow down long enough to really listen, not just with our ears but with our hearts. Most of the time the message won’t be simple enough or clear enough to put down in concise and unambiguous words. Listening to the Wind is more art than science. 

In this moment all I have is the barest of hints as to what the message might be. So I’ll keep listening. I’ll keep paying attention. Because I’m quite certain that Spirit isn’t finished speaking yet.