This Morning

Yup, it's still December, sigh. And actually it's December 25th, Christmas morning. I haven't been smiling a whole lot this month, however, I smiled when I saw the snow this morning. The light feathery flakes as they blew by the window and the thought of how big my Lilly-Bug's smile must have been when she opened her gifts from Santa, also brought me joy. There was also something else that made me smile, reflect, and hope.

As I let the boys out the back door this morning, I saw a small sparrow that was hoovering and trying so hard to fly. Gunner spotted the injured bird right away and ran toward it. The bird at this point was on the ground and Gunner was nosing it. I ran outside and yelled, "LEAVE IT!!". A shocked Gunner, looking at his crazy mom in her camo fleece pants and no shoes, immediately left the bird alone. (Luckily Marlo never saw the bird, or this would be where the story ends.)

I got the boys back in the house and frantically searched for something to scoop the bird into. I at least wanted to get the bird out of harm's way. There were going to be no birdy-murders in my backyard on Christmas morning, this I was sure of.

I put shoes on and headed back outside to the rescue. As I approached the bird I saw the scared look in it's eyes. The look of fear broke my heart. I scooped it up in the glass decorative tray (the only thing I could find) and just as I lifted it, the bird started to fly. It didn't fly fast right away, it hoovered like a humming bird, right in front of my face. I swear the bird was looking at me, taking me all in. Then just like that, it flew high into the sky. I could see that one of it's wings was not working as well as the other, but this bird still flew, and the bird still sang.

I can't help but think it was a sign this crisp December morning. A sign with a lesson to be learned. Just like Martina McBride's song, "And with a broken wing, she still sings, she keeps an eye on the sky....and with a broken wing, she still sings, man you oughta see her fly...."

I am broken. I am deeply wounded by grief and loss, yet I can still sing and one day, with the continued gentle "lift" of my friends and family, I will fly too.