This post popped up as a memory from three years ago. So many things have changed, been accomplished in the lives of my children as I sit by simply as a flight consultant, an occasional guide, a woman learning to fly to new heights of my own.

What happened yesterday, I consider spectacular.

Spectacular in a way I almost think I shouldn’t tell a soul.

What happened yesterday was God reading the stories I was writing and somehow coming in and being the Sovereign editor.

A day that was typical, work issues, family thoughts, waiting and wondering and hoping, writing “trust” in ink again on my palm.

I couldn’t for the life of me figure out the whole time conversion of when my son’s plane was to land. I decided to focus on work, to walk to the post office, to pick up lunch.

I walked towards our front door and opened it, looking down.

“Oh.” I stopped.

“Oh.”

I touched the tummy of the bird fallen on our brick. It moved slightly, one leg twitching as if somehow it had folded into itself and couldn’t get unfolded.

“Does that happen?”, I wondered or is it worse than just getting tangled on landing?

Someone saw me, I told them I didn’t know what happened or why the bird had fallen, unable to fly now.

She stood at a distance watching my worry over the bird, walked towards her car and added hopes, that maybe it will be okay.

I cupped the bird in my hand. It resisted at first and then moved its body in a cautious hop to a wobbly standing position.

I’ve never seen such beauty up close, the wings in its back caught the afternoon sun and caused a golden sheen. Its little eye was still and focused forward, almost seemed resigned in some way.

As much as I love birds, I had never held one, never touched its spindly claws, never caressed a creature so supple, so sublime.

I held the bird in my hand, my day interrupted by its falling.

Back on its little feet; but, afraid to move, I waited.

I’ll go, I decided. I’ll walk to get the mail, pick up my salad and I’ll see when I get back if the sparrow has flown or fallen back down.

My phone in my hand waiting to hear he’d landed, I walked and decided already, this bird falling to the ground and my noticing has a purpose.

I decided, a foreboding or foretelling of either hope or hardship.

Still, I accepted that I’d return and I’d accept what I found.

Which was the bird on my porch, still standing, slightly moving, maybe had waited for me to see, I believe this could be.

Water, I thought. I’ll get a little water in a jar lid and I’ll set it down in front of its feet.

But not interested, it shuffled just a little towards the steps and then flew, low at first and then up and away.

“Oh.”

Later, I decided to leave work early. I had yet to hear that my son’s plane had landed in another country, a place I can’t get to.

It was too much for me to figure out if I was wrong about the time or if, oh, I don’t know what if.

I had three stops to get the contents of the mission project bags. Each Christmas, our church contributes to bags that are dispersed to prisoners. I needed 100 more pre-stamped envelopes. I had planned to get those tomorrow or Friday since I go to the post office anyway.

Instead, I told myself to finish, to at least have all of my supplies, then the job of putting them together will be all that’s needed.

The clerk asked what I needed and then asked me to count behind him.

“See if you get 30,” he said.

I reached for the stack, the envelopes usually stamped with our flag and “Forever” underneath.

I smiled and counted along with him.

I thought to tell him about the bird and how I was waiting to hear that the plane had landed.

Instead, I kept it close.

I smiled.

“Oh.”

Got into my car and kept moving on. I’ll get the tree, I’ll make wreaths for the front windows. Christmas is my favorite, this will help.

Then, the message came. “Just landed, the flight was longer than I thought.”

“Oh!”

I’m hesitant to share this story I consider spectacular.

I guess if I had a book to ask it be included it would be the one that talks about when God winks or it might be good for Reader’s Digest or at the very least, I decided it must be recorded here.

I started my morning yesterday very afraid inside, afraid of what might happen or not, a recurring theme in my story.

I thought of asking for prayer; instead kept it inside and remembered I’d already cried and cried quietly to Jesus in prayer.

Sometimes it happens this way, the way He shows us He knows in spectacular ways.

God is everywhere, don’t forget to notice. me

We’re worth more than we know to Him.

Worth more than the sparrow and to me, He knows that’s a whole lot because I sure do love the sparrows, the bluebird, the cardinals and the dove.

“What is the price of two sparrows—one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭10:29-31‬ ‭NLT‬‬