Chapter 8...Bluebird of Hope

"She can deal with stress and carry heavy burdens. She smiles when she feels like screaming, and she sings when she feels like crying. She cries when she's happy and laughs when she's afraid. Her love is unconditional. There's only one thing wrong with her. She forgets what she's worth!"



When we moved to the South twenty years ago, I spent many afternoons at my sister's home in the country. It was the first time I ever saw bluebirds in such an abundance. If allowed to, I could sit in awe watching the graceful birds until the sunset. There is something about any birds with blue feathers that can be hypnotic and mystifying. Perhaps it's because they're a shade of Heavenly Blue or that bluebirds are symbols of happiness, or maybe Godly is the word I'm trying to find.

Kevin Spacey starred in an early 2000 movie whose name was Prot. Prot was portrayed as a mental patient/possible alien. There were several characters Prot helped, but a fellow obsessive compulsive patient named Howie, was who came to my mind. Howie was tasked by Prot to look out into the garden until he saw the bluebird of happiness. Rather than going about his regular routines, Howie sat at the window watching the trees for the elusive bird to come to him. There's more to the story, but this is the movie that came to mind this morning. However, the thought and the setting seems appropriate for the state of repair I'm in.

Every home we owned had a large window, French doors, or sliding glass doors in the kitchen dining area. I based the purchase of our homes to have this requirement, because I thrive on bright natural light. It was important because the kitchen has always been the nucleus of our homes. It's the place our family and friends gravitate to. Its where we traditionally gather daily for meals, where we solved problems whether they were important or insignificant. Its where we entertained, studied, laughed and cried. When my children were babies, they were bathed in the sink while the aroma of fresh baked goodies escaped from the oven. Birthdays, weddings, funerals, and graduations all centered within the kitchen, and its no wonder to anyone who knows me that I'd be writing this at my kitchen table.

Lately, more often than not, I've been sitting at this same table with my head in my hands, wondering. Wondering about trivial things and those which are not so easy to define. I gaze without expression at all the beautiful flowers I've planted that have finally reached maturity and the freshly mowed lawn, and feel nothing. An emptiness I can blame on many things, but my mind goes blank when I try to pinpoint any one thing, and the other is fear. Then one day not long ago on a particularly “blue” day, I lift my head from my hands and focused my medicated eyes to see a bluebird sitting on a planter directly in front of the window. I didn't move except for the tears that ran down my cheeks. If I didn't know better, it looked like he was looking at me looking at him and transmitting the thought that tomorrow will be a better day. I praised the Lord. Did God know I needed to see that bird of hope? I believe He did.

This exact incident has happened three times since then, and each time my eyes teared. It was therapy I didn't have to pay for and I know in my heart, God is walking by my side through this journey. I felt the same overwhelming hope Howie did when the bluejay landed by his window.