An Empty Bottle

Recently I was hiking around one of my favorite places in the Uintahs, Stewart's Bowl. It's a wonderful little valley on the Boneville Shoreline Trail. I say hiking, but anyone who knows me knows that what I mean is...walk, stroll, meander, that sort of thing.
I sat down on a rock and was watching a hawk playing on a thermal, just floating in the air. Every once in a while, the wind shifted, and he would just adjust to maintain his position, just dancing there in the air.
I had been sitting there for several minutes. It's a great place to listen to the quiet. The breeze was cool, tickling through the sweat on my head when I realized I had been listening to a song for several minutes, the wind singing behind me. It was lovely, but the moment I realized it was a real sound and not just in my head I had to turn around and try to find where it was coming from.
I back-tracked along the trail, and then rustled noisily through the weeds (yes, I've seen the snakes, I'm careful) for several yards.
I finally tracked down the maker of that lovely, other-worldly music: There was an empty and broken bottle sitting in the weeds, and the wind blowing in and through it was creating a symphony for me.
I sat down and just listened for several minutes, eyes closed, awed by the fact that the wind could make something so beautiful out of something so ordinary.
When I opened my eyes, the dancing hawk was gone, the music began to stutter, and then they were both gone.
I had two thoughts, one after the other: First, timing really is everything, but its important not to rush things. The wind will sing to you if you put yourself in a position to hear it.
Second, if the wind can make music out of litter, then Heavenly Father can make something beautiful out of me if I keep myself in the right place.