It had been a tough week of work at my university.  A typical final exam week at the end of the semester.  I was tired and ill-tempered.  My students were tired and ill-tempered, more so when they saw the exam I had written for them.  Even the office staff was tired and ill-tempered.  Everyone was overworked and sleep-deprived.

This had been an especially rough day.  One of my bosses had just dumped a huge last-minute project on me, guaranteed to tie up my entire weekend, when I had hoped to get some rest.  Our Department had sent out a memo asking how we felt about being cut to three-quarters of our salary if the budget problems became worse.  And I had had a couple of difficult meetings with students who were unhappy with the grade they received -- tears, insults, screaming, and so forth.  The end of my work day couldn't possibly arrive fast enough for me, and I knew that I had a one-hour drive in heavy traffic ahead of me before I would arrive home.

I left my building and starting walking up the busy street toward the lot where my car was parked.  It was a blistering hot, humid day.  My shoulders were drooping, my head was down.  What a day!  What a week! 

As I started to walk into the parking lot, I was startled by a loud sound above my head.  I stopped and looked up.  There, sitting at the very top of a telephone pole, was a mockingbird, and he had just begun to sing.  I remember having the absurd thought that he must have been waiting for me before he started.

This little mockingbird proceeded to sing his heart out for me.  I counted at least a dozen different songs.  There may have been more; I lost track after a while.  He even threw in some comic relief -- after a sequence of particularly beautiful songs, he let out a crow's loud, "Caw! Caw!" which caught me by surprise.  I laughed out loud as he continued with more beautiful songs.

For fifteen minutes, I stood there and listened to my own private concert, oblivious to the people walking past me on the sidewalk and the cars driving past, honking their horns, with blaring radios.  When the little bird finished he looked around and then gave a quick nod of his head, bowing to his audience of one, and flew away.

When I finally continued walking toward my car, I had a smile on my face. 

We are all busy with our lives, trying to keep up with our work, our family, our relationships, our responsibilities.  The pace can be hectic, and it can seem as if we never have a single moment that is our own.  And in the middle of it all, a little mockingbird may begin to sing for you.

Do you ever listen?