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Wednesday, June 10, 2015

The Hummingbird


It was an overdue simple and quiet Saturday morning. 
Even the highway in front of our home seemed to have fewer semis, boats, campers or livestock trailers climbing the hill. 
The sun was bright and the air was perfectly cool.
Last Saturday was the first morning in so many that I simply sat outside and enjoyed it. 
I read through two issues of Cowboys & Indians
Had three cups of coffee; and as a result got the severe jitters.
Half-heartedly watched heat across different lots; if they went behind the grain bin I was slow to move my chair. 
Thought of how I asked for a new day to start again; and I got it. 
Thought of all of those I know who are lost or hurting. 

For a reason I don't know, there are so many people in my life who feel lost or are hurting. 
For all of those who are lost or hurting. 
Who are waiting for answers.
Who are living with shattered hearts. 
Who have fears and concerns that they don't know how to address. 
Who are lonely, feeling forgotten. 
Who are mourning a loss. 
Who are living a lie.
Who are barely getting by.
Who are tired of trying. 
Who are broken. 

My mind drifted between those hurting and back into the pages of the magazine. 
What can I do for my hurting friends? My story could always be worse. Who designs these ranch houses? They are not from Economy, Indiana. These people did not lower their living room ceiling so the wood panelling would fit. When will I travel west again? 
My heart was on fire for those broken, uncomfortably near and far, and it had nothing to do with the Friday night pizza. 



Over and over I replayed this Eliza Tabor quote in my head:

“Disappointment to a noble soul is what cold water is to burning metal; it strengthens, tempers, intensifies, but never destroys it.”

Suddenly, I heard a loud buzzing. 
A helicopter-over-your-head buzzing. 
A stinging insect-in-your-face buzzing.
A super-fast-relentless buzzing. 
I quickly looked around. It was right in front of me. Feet from my face. Floating on the air. 


A hummingbird. 


Before I truly realized what it was, I jerked in my seat. The tiny bird hung there for seconds, but I had obviously startled it in the same way it had I. The hummingbird was on another flight in no time. 

It flew away and landed in a small group of branches in a tree. But not for long. It was gone again in seconds. Just around enough to make its presence known. Just long enough for me to forget the heart pain.



I looked back to the magazine but thought maybe I shouldn't. A view like that can't be followed up with pages from a book. 

I grabbed my phone and simply searched "hummingbird lesson". I needed more from that little bird than just a brief encounter.

And below is what I found. 
For all of those who are lost or hurting. 
Who are waiting for answers.
Who are living with shattered hearts. 
Who have fears and concerns that they don't know how to address. 
Who are lonely, feeling forgotten. 
Who are mourning a loss. 
Who are living a lie.
Who are barely getting by.
Who are tired of trying. 
Who are broken. 


Once upon a time, a huge forest was being consumed by a terrible fire. Frightened, all the animals fled their homes and ran out of the forest. As they came to the edge of a stream they stopped to watch the raging wild fire, feeling discouraged and powerless. 

They were all bemoaning the destruction of their homes. Every one of them thought that there was nothing they could do about the fire, except for one little hummingbird.

This particular hummingbird decided he would do something. He swooped into the stream, picked up a few drops of water and went into the forest and put them on the fire. Then he went back to the stream to do it again and again and again. All the other animals watched him in disbelief; some tried to discourage the hummingbird: 

“Don’t bother, it is too much, you are too little, your wings will burn, your beak is too tiny, it’s only a drop, you can’t put out this fire.” 

And as the animals stand around disparaging the little bird’s efforts, the bird noticed how hopeless and forlorn they looked.

Then one of the animals shouted out and challenged the hummingbird in a mocking voice, “What do you think you are doing?”

And the hummingbird, without wasting time or losing a beat, looked back and said, “I am doing the best I can.”





So there is the message for you
If you need it. 
Or perhaps I should say: when you need it. 

Remember the Hummingbird. 

Later that morning we loaded cow/calf pairs to move miles away to graze. I told Cody about the hummingbird and we concluded that neither of us had ever seen one on our farm previously in two years. It was the sign. It was needed. I was grateful.

Sunday after church we we went to Orscheln's (it's becoming a habit, after Mexi) and spent 10 minutes reviewing hummingbird feeders for our yard. How do you pick the perfect feeder to attract your new friend when they all look so....bright and plastic? 

It hangs now it our yard. East of the milk house, by the blooms. Away from the rocking chairs but close to the swing. I can see it from our kitchen window. 



Though you may feel so small in these trying times, remember this - 
You're doing the best you can. 


None of today's photos were taken by me, with the exception of our milkhouse. 

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