Good morning…
Walking with my friend, we were stunned to see a dying cardinal lying on the sidewalk. The little creature was slowly moving his bright red head, looking around, blinking his eyes, but his chubby body was stationary, paralyzed on the pavement. When I said, “Oh, let’s pick him up and put him in a soft, private place,” I could feel my friend’s wordless resistance: “Let’s not intervene.”
After walking on in silence, my friend then spoke her truth, “My first thought was totally different than yours. I see this dying red bird as a sign. I think God is saying to me, ‘It is time to let your relationship die. Do not touch it. Do not try to resuscitate it. It is time to allow this thing to naturally die.”
As we walked further, strangely, we saw a completely dead squirrel kicked to the curb. That critter had been dead for a very long time, leaving us no decision whether or not to intervene. Then the dying bird and the totally dead squirrel were contrasted, moments later, by a gorgeous, white horse grazing regal on the hillside. “That looks like the Holy Spirit horse that talked to me in my recent dream,” said my friend. “I am trying to remember what the Holy Spirit told me.”
As we kept walking and talking, we realized it is difficult to decide when to let something die naturally and when to put effort into resuscitation. We need to remember what the Holy Spirit tells us, when deciding what to fight for and what to release. She eventually said, “On our way back to your home, if that cardinal is still there, let’s find a way to move him to a soft spot, allowing him to die naturally in a sacred, sheltered space.”
As we walked back from the horse farm, indeed the bird was still lying there. This time he was not moving. None of him was moving. His tiny eyelids were closed as he lay motionless in the middle of the sidewalk. Deciding together to move our feathered friend, we parted a pile of leaves between a stubby stump and a sprouting sapling. After our bare hands formed a cozy pine straw nest, she pulled a new idea from her pocket, “Later, I can wash my glove.” She carefully picked up the limp cardinal and laid him softly in our make-shift bed. We stood in awe together for a moment, honoring the life and death of this uniquely gorgeous creature. Reassuring us both, I said, “I walk this sidewalk regularly, so I’ll check on him when I pass by, celebrating this spirit we helped to birth back to heaven.”
As we began to walk away, my friend stopped to reconsider, “I think I want to take a picture.” Returning to the soft spot, she snapped some sacred shots.
“Aren’t five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one sparrow is forgotten by God“ (Luke 12:6, GNT).
…Sue…
