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A Little Bird Told Me….

Yesterday I came home in the middle of the afternoon to settle into some writing and reflection time. When I arrived home our little dog, Aretha, greeted me. (She demands RESPECT.) She usually greets me at the door and then settles down for minute. This time however she was frantic with barking and fussing. She ran to the back of our home into our four-seasons room, a large room with vaulted ceiling and mostly windows that juts out into the oak forest where we live. Her barking and fussing were now mixed with the sound of some kind of buzzing sound. I looked straight ahead and beheld an amazing sight: a little humming bird about the size of my little finger was inside the house, laying against the glass and trying to get out. She was green with tiny little wings and a diminutive, straw-like beak through which she would draw in nectar from flowers and Carol’s hummingbird feeders. (Carol puts our seeds every morning and whistles for the birds of all kinds to come for a free feast. I swear they hear her whistle and fly to her table on the back deck of our home.) I slowly moved closer to the tiny creature and she ceased her frantic and futile flapping. In fact she became so still that I thought this precious, delicate wonder of creation might have expired. But as I got closer, I could see that she was still breathing, though in a shallow and rapid way. She was exhausted, terrified, and just surrendered to the moment. Compassion and curiosity welled up in me and I spoke softly, “It will be OK little one. I’m here to help you.” If only she could know that it was my heart only to help and not to hurt her. I am amazed by her! I have only love and compassion for her. I then stretched out and very lightly stroked the back of her tiny head all the time saying, “Its OK little bird.” Aretha was quietly beside me watching the whole process. I gently unlocked the sash pulling down the upper portion and she slowly lifted from the glass and flew out the window, free.

In the moment I touched this fragile wisp of the forest I was caught in the wonder of how my Father relates to me when I feel small, helpless, afraid or exhausted. I continue to flap in fear all the while the One whose hands formed me touches me and whispers in the sound of a gentle stilling, “It’s OK little one. I’m here to help you.” A little bird told me about the power and passion of God to love and touch me—to resurrect me from the fragile futility of life’s trials.

Beloved of God, He is here. He is reaching out to stroke you ever so gently and whispering, “It’s OK little one. I’m here to help.” I know because a little bird told me.

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