A Cricket Love Song

Every late summer and fall, outside our front door, a male cricket takes up loud residence as his choice of a place from which to woo his fair lady. We found him, once: he is green and less than half an inch long. He scrapes the edges of his carapace (is that the right word for the hard shell coverings to his wings?) For such a mite of a thing, the sound carries for dozens of yards. His constant cricking can be both soothing and irritating by turns, to my human ears. There is a certain calming as a background to other tasks in its constant rhythm and consistent pitch and timbre. It can intrude though, into awareness in a way that interferes with thought and conversation. But in either case, what he is saying is completely lost on me. To his love's heart, it is beautiful music; a guitar serenade at midnight 'neath her boudoir window; a lover's croon in a Venetian gondola. Perhaps, though I cannot understand his language or the appeal of if his sound to a being of if his same species, I may learn a bit from him. The voice of the heavenly bridegroom calls to His many-celled bride each cell and the organ to which the cell responds. Put another way, "His sheep know His voice." "Deep calls to deep." We, along with all those others who have heard that sweet music, dance to the tune and rhythm of His wooing song; His guitar playing under our window; His sweet voice echoing from the walls of grand cathedrals and elegant houses as the gondola of our life glides on. Others, oblivious, being of a different species, perhaps, hear only a monotone; to them it may sound as raspy and repetitious as my friend cricket's love song does to me. But we have heard, we have responded, we rejoice in His courtship; His romancing music. Amid all our doubts, fears, worries, inadequacies, guilts, His love song is clear and sweet in our ears. And, in hearing and responding, perhaps we are singing our own love song to Him-a joy and a delight in His ears; the highest prayer of all. So, if this is true, I can withdraw my question of "What is prayer, anyway?" And relax into His love-song and let myself be carried on its waves into His very presence where my response is all He asks; where communion is not of word or deed but of attending and listening and abiding. God is not only everywhere; He is everywhere. God is not only loving; He is love. God is not only good; He is goodness. He not only gives good gifts; He is very Gift. God is not only... 9.19.09