Today as I was having my morning coffee and watching the squirrels rob my bird feeders, I was startled by a loud “Thud” at my sliding glass doors. I looked out the door and was grieved to see this beautiful young cardinal flopping around on the patio below.
Birds have hit the glass before. Usually, they sit –stunned— for a few seconds, gather their composure, and fly away unscathed. But … not this time. This sweet little girl had clearly hit too hard… too fast… or in a way which did damage beyond what my eyes could visibly see.
I ran outside, gently scooped her up and tried to assess the damage. Her little body went limp in my hands. She was still breathing but there was absolutely nothing I could do to “fix” her. So, I did the only thing I could think to do. I sat down on the steps of the patio and gently ran my fingers across her soft feathers while I told her how beautiful she was.
I kept hoping that the situation wasn’t as dire as it seemed—- that she’d ‘wake up’, gather her strength and flutter away, the way I’d seen so many other birds do. But that didn’t happen this time. After a few minutes, she sighed her last breath and was gone.
Her body was warm; a stark difference from the frigid morning air which surrounded us. I continued to hold her for a few minutes, stroking her feathers and appreciating the intricate details of her body. She had been strong enough to live and fly during a Missouri winter. Yet looking at her lifeless little body, it was clear that she was also shockingly fragile. One wrong move and her life had been cut short.
So many encouraging analogies have come from my garden. But today, instead of joy, it brought a tinge of sadness. It brought an unwelcome admonition; a reminder of how harsh and fragile life can be. It smacked me in the face — I am mortal. I am limited —both in the days of my life AND in the power I hold. Most things are outside of my control, regardless of how desperately I wish that were different. I can’t fix everything. In fact, I can’t even “fix” most things.
But you know what? In spite of my humanity and all my many short comings, I can choose to remain kind. I can choose to remain empathetic. I can choose to offer a helping hand where it’s needed. I can choose to provide both comfort and kindness where it’s needed. And in spite of how fragile and short life is, those choices can make me— or any of us, for that matter— incredibly powerful!
It might not feel like much during a moment of sadness— but being impactful is my definition of a life well lived. What about you?
Until Next Time,
