The hills were cloaked in the morning mists of the early rainy season; so lovely to look at but also indicative of the condition of my heart. I had just finished reading the book of Jonah and while sitting on the veranda in quiet meditation, my eyes fell on a solitary crow perched on a dead tree at the edge of my garden. He was way out on the end of a branch looking lonely and bedraggled. I had seen him in that same place the night before as darkness was coming on and heavy rain was falling. “Why are you all alone?” I had silently asked the crow. Crows are typically seen gathering into cacophonous family groups as evening dusk begins to shade into night. His aloneness was unusual.
Seeing this crow still alone that misty morning, rumpled and soaking wet, I wondered if he had been injured. “Poor fellow, I’m sorry you’re hurting and alone.”
Scarcely had the thought passed through my mind when the Lord spoke to my heart from the book of Jonah (see Jonah 4:4,9). “Laura, doest thou well to have pity on the crow?” It was as real as if He were standing there; the suddenness of the interruption startled me out of my reverie.
I have extreme emotional ups and downs here in Sierra Leone and I have to confess that some days I’m so frustrated by people that in utter exasperation I cry out to God to remind me why we’re even here. I had been having a string of such days and hadn’t yet recognized how cold my heart was becoming. In the quiet solitude of the misty morning, the Lord used one of my garden visitors, a pitiful and friendless crow, to roll back the mist of my heart and remind me that the work here is just one forlorn life at a time.