When birds sing...

It's a very muggy day, so I decided to go to one of the local coffee shops to do some writing.

It's one of those days that even birds are hiding in the shade.

I was thinking about birds this morning...saw a lot of them yesterday--both in my yard and out at the lake.

When I see either birds or butterflies, I feel like John's paying me a visit.

Not long after John's death, I noticed that every time I was in the upstairs bathroom (at least every morning), a bird would sit on the roof and sing toward the house, looking right at the window. Looking right at me. This would happen just about every morning, so I began looking forward to it. This went on for many weeks. A sort of ritual--looking out the window to see if my songbird was there.

One Sunday, I was in too much of a hurry to glance out the window. I was going to be late for church, after all! In I came...still at the point where I basically listened and didn't participate much in the music of the service. In those early days, I would sit on the far right of the sanctuary, near the memorial garden where half of John's ashes were buried. And occasionally, I would glance out of the window that looks upon that cloistered place.

So, during the sermon on this particular Sunday, I glanced out the window, deep in thought about the message. And on the roof overlooking that garden sat a bird, similar to the one at my house, over 5 miles from the church. Staring at me. Singing. Sorta looking like it was scolding me. Of course, I burst into (quiet) tears. I did that a lot those days (I do it quite often now).

I think that John was telling me, through that bird, that he was near and would always love me.

Now, I don't notice birds on the roof anymore. But I notice lots of things in nature and know that John, my parents, and my brother are all a part of it. And they all are happy and waiting for that day...hopefully a LONG time down the road...when we are all together again.