Saturday, May 24, 2014

A little birdie told me ...

Therapy yesterday.  I started crying a few minutes after I sat down and about an hour later, I said "Wow, that's a lot of crying."  The crying was interspersed with talking, or trying to talk, or trying to make myself try to talk, but really - there was a lot of crying.

Just before I left, J said "You'll need to be intentional about being present in today this afternoon.  This was really intense, and you are going to really really want to check out." 

I agreed, but I really didn't know how to accomplish it.  I almost fell asleep driving home (one of my subconciously chosen methods of checking out) - I think it was only my vicious headache that kept me awake.

I parked the van in my driveway, took a deep breath, and walked to the front door.  Well, partway to the front door, because there in my flower bed, just a few feet from the sidewalk, was a Mama robin and two just-fledged baby robins.  (Robin parents typically feed their babies for some period of time after they leave the nest.)  One of the babies took off down the side of the house and hid far away from me, but the other one scooted forward until it felt hidden by the irises, and we sat there, the two of us, peacefully co-existing for several minutes.

The neighbour's nine year old boy happened past.  I showed him the baby robin.  He stroked it - just once - with a gentle forefinger, and then we spent about fifteen minutes talking about birds and baby animals and this really cool video he'd seen about animals and camouflage.

And then he was gone, and my headache was gone, and the second baby robin hopped off in search of his sibling and I sat on the bench and thought:

Jesus loves me, this I know
A little birdie told me so.