Good morning…
Last week, I walked our golden retriever mix to the horse farm in the flurry of our second Atlanta snow of the season. The flakes were light, airy, gorgeous coming down. As I rounded the familiar trail, I saw something I have never seen before.
I noticed a cardinal. Then another. Another. And still another. As I looked up and around, to my surprise, we were surrounded by a huge flock of red birds. About fifty or so. Males and females. Some pecking the ground. Some hopping around. Some flitting. Some flirting. Some flying from tree to tree. We followed the crowd of striking creatures for several minutes, until, just as quickly as they came, they magically dispersed.
My thoughts migrated to one of my favorite books, Gift of the Red Bird by Paula D’Arcy. In this meaningful read about processing great loss, alone in the wilderness Paula is guided by a red bird. Experientially, she encounters the very thin veil which exists between earth and heaven. Red birds have become, for many, a symbol of the ongoing presence of deeply missed loved ones, loved ones who find creative ways to send comforting power from beyond.
When Tate and I arrived home from our fun snowy walk, I shared my cardinal encounter with a small group of friends. One immediately sent me these fabulous photos, photos a stranger had just taken and posted on instagram.
Wow. What beautiful affirmation that our deeply missed loved ones are actively present with us, sending loving encouragement from beyond a thin veil.
So since we stand surrounded by all those who have gone before, an enormous cloud of witnesses, let us drop every extra weight, every sin that clings to us and slackens our pace, and let us run with endurance the long race set before us (Hebrews 12:1, VOICE).
…Sue…
