The location of all my hospice nursing Almost in contrast, my Spirit was heavy laden As demanding as this kind of schedule was, With this heavy load of care, When I got to the object in question, Ever so gently, I picked it up in the towel I had brought with me.... I wasn't sure if it would live or die. That "still, small" voice that is in each of us....
BLUEBIRD MIRACLE
was in the Ozark hills of Missouri and Arkansas.
The hills are alive with natural beauty...
green and vibrant with the sometimes too healthy grass.
The trees are full of life and offer their shelter
to many in their ever abundant forests.
by cares and responsibilities.
Often, I would drive between two to three hundred miles a day.
Part of it depended on which hospice I was working at
and the other part depended on the scheduling
of patients and who I was to see that day.
my personal life was hurting even more.
I felt crushed and drained by having endured a betrayal of a friend
and also the "love" that was in my life at the time.
I wondered what set me apart that I should so easily be a victim
not once but twice in such a short time frame.
The cares of life were pressing hard on my shoulders.
Even as I saught to be of genuine service,
I prayed to endure the trials I was walking through.
I was driving to one of my hospice patient's homes.
Running a bit late,
I was concentrating on getting to my next destination.
This drive often was good for me.
It gave me an opportunity to "gently release" one patient's home
and prepare for arriving at another's.
As I drove, suddenly, I spotted something unusual.
I almost kept driving..not sure if I had seen what I thought I had.
The entity that I am, demanded that I make absolutely sure though.
Being ever so careful, I did a U-turn on the desolate Missouri highway
and went to observe a bit closer.
I pulled my truck over to the opposite side of the road.
Carefully, I walked over to the tiniest, wee bluebird
one can imagine....
It looked crumpled, totally lifeless, desolate and dead.
I had thought I had seen it breath ever so slightly
when I had driven past
it just a moment ago.
Surely,there was no life restoring to this creature.....
it was impossible.....
How could something that LOOKED so DEAD.....
possibly, breath again????
(When one rescues a bird,
it is helpful to cover the eyes of the little creature if at all possible,
especially if you can do so
without it seeing you....
otherwise, the bird relates to "capture" and "human" and often dies).
All I could do for it
was chest compressions, pray and allow it to feel the love
that was in my heart for it.
Not wanting to be any later than I had to be,
I put the little bird on my lap as I drove.
As I drove, I continued to pray for it.
I peeked under the towel.
Delighted, I noted its little eyes had opened.
There was no fear as comes so often
with birds that are captured even for a brief time.
I wondered what to do with it.
I knew the hospice family I was going to see would understand
my caring for this wee being.
They often called me by my native name, "Little Bird".
I laughed gently at the idea of Little Bird
taking care of "Wee" Bird.
I wasn't sure if it's wing was broken.
It had been so crumpled and ruffled,
it was impossible to tell initially.
Just as I debated what to do,
I spotted
a Vetenarian's office.
Pulling over immediately, I took the towel off the bird.
Amazingly, it flew to my dash and observed without fear its surroundings.
How could such a little, tiny being be so unafraid?
I ever so gently opened my truck window.
Awed, I watched the courageous, wee bird fly into the free and wild sky.
if we only choose to listen and tune in....
shone a bright beacon of love and light into my very Spirit at that moment.
I became very aware that Great Spirit had held me
as I had held this bird.....
ever so gently.....in the bosom of Great Spirit's love for me....
Others might have deemed me past recovery at times *smiles*
The truth was, I was NOT crushed...
my body was sore and bruised much as wee bird's had been
...and yet.....my Spirit had been sustained by Creator....
That little bird put a song back into my spirit....
and helped me re-member the freedom
and the joys of living to love that we are all given.
The final step is when we fly to the home of our Spirits.....
where love, light and mercy abounds forever.
This story is dedicated to
Cecil, Jamey,
Tommy, their beloved Mom
and their families.
Words fail me when I try to describe
what these people have come to mean to me.
It was Cecil and Jamey's house
that I was on the way to when this incident occured.
I consider "wee bird"
as my own "personal" bluebird of happiness......
Whenever life's cares begin to press me down a bit.....
I don't wait now......
I RUN......I FLY....to Creator's bosom.....
and there I take shelter.
My little wee bluebird will be ever precious to me
and always be the representation of morning coming alive
with a new day and the light of love.
Contents of this Site
