Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Reposting from last year on this date

This is a repost from last July 1

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

During the toughest of times, just breathe

I was folding laundry late in the day when the clear sound of something awry,"THWAP," urged me to check it out.  "I bet its that screen door," I thought as I went to investigate, my arms laden with laundry.   Yet the screen door was shut, so I continued with chores until during one trip up and down the stairs, I realized that my husband was holding a shovel and staring at what appeared to be a small, gray-deader-than-a-doorknob bird on our patio! "He must have flown into the house," my husband said quietly, "but he is not dead!!  I looked closely, through the screen and indeed he was breathing. slowly. I must admit I found myself thinking of my father who loved to watch the birds tease the squirrels from his kitchen window.

Assuming nature would take her course, we ate dinner and did a few more chores before checking on our guest, who was was still lying there, breathing slowly but regularly.  I must admit I found myself remembering those long summer evenings, not so long ago, watching my father lying on his side breathing slowly and wondering if each one would be his last.

In the morning, the first thing we both checked was Birdie who amazingly had survived the perils of the night and was sitting up!  "He must have had the wind knocked out of his sails," my husband muttered, "but I'm guessing he'll be breakfast for the cats if he sits there long!"  We watched him slowly hop short distances and occasionally attempt to flutter his wings.  We left slid water through the screen door and left bread crumbs nearby.  He seemed unconcerned with our presence and phone-photos.  He appeared rather consumed with his recovery as he hopped around the patio, slowly but surely defying nature. We watched him, from afar, and cheered his progress still wondering how he would ever defy the forces of nature stacked against him.  Yet in due time, he quietly flapped his wings, slowly, and like a tiny 747, without looking back, he flew away. I smiled and celebrated his miraculous recovery. I must admit I found myself thinking of my father's perseverance through adversity, even when others had "thrown in the shovel" as I watched him fly into the woods. I wonder if the Central Message is this: During the really tough days, just breathe?  

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