I’ve never really thought of myself as having great
influence or voice in this land and lifetime. Some have said I lack a clear bugling call like more prominent
Anatidae in my arena. And most assuredly if any sounds did come
forth they were woefully perceived by some as meaningless hisses, honks and
grunts like Cygnus olor; never known
as fully mute or fully comprehensible in word or deed. A fact that could
be changing soon.
As I read about the Mute Swan (Cygnus olor), I came to find
out they’re not fully mute, but do have the capability of making primitive
noises as mentioned above. Their lives never fully defined by silent beauty and grace, or even the resonant glory of
more recognizable song birds. And much to my romantic and intellectual chagrin, I found out they
actually do not sing one last beautiful and triumphant song before their
death. That was disheartening.
But for the sake of this blog and my respect for historic metaphor,
I’m sticking with Swan Song as my “final
gesture, effort, or performance given just before death or retirement.”
Call me sentimental about erroneous 3rd century BC
Greek proverbs that misled me to believe “the
Mute Swan is completely silent during its lifetime until the moment just before
death, when it sings one beautiful song.”
I just really like the idea from a poetic and melancholy standpoint.
There were seven last sayings Jesus uttered from the cross
on that glorious and final day. One
might even say they were the stanzas of His own glorious Swan Song. And with no irreverence intended, it was a
beautiful song to conclude a life fraught with misunderstandings and hateful critiques, by those not understanding His power and purpose.
I draw no parallels with Christ on the cross and my present circumstances, but I do draw strength from the knowledge that like Him, if
I will die on the altar of obedience, I will ultimately rise again for God’s glory
and honor.
In the days ahead, may my Swan Song be of such beauty and
grace that all may know; He is God in life and in death. And no matter how deep or wide or high or low one
may seek or even wander; His presence pursues and provokes us return to the
Heart that loved and made us His very own.
Coda
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