the bird

the wind is strong and wild and holding. it's full and thick and reminding.
Life is vibrant.
God doesn't forget.
the Spirit calls me.
the wind is talking in the leaves even in the grass. i wish you could hear it too.
even the light it speaking.
 you have a voice. you have a voice. so do I. listen and speak.

yesterday a bird flew into my house through an open door. it just entered the door frame and turned into the barred window trying to get out. i quickly opened the door and let the bird free. it was small and colorful, blue and green and brown. it wasn't frantic but seemed glad to fly back out to the yard.

some people think a bird flying into your house means someone will die. it's bad luck. a bad omen. only once before had a bird flown into my house. it was in san francisco on fell street when i had a little lemon tree on my porch and had been trying desperately to get pregnant. it was the day i found out i was. i was in the kitchen and i was so happy. i had the windows open looking out into the garden and my life giving lemon tree planted in the blue pot on our small porch. the little brown bird flew in through the window and darted around in a frenzy and finally i got it outside again. that night i had a miscarriage.

so yesterday i was a bit unsettled by the bird.

there has been a lot happening lately. there has even been a lot of desperation and attempts at birthing things. not babies, but adoption and people into adulthood (ish), and plans. there has been a lot of wonderings and worries and the bird and it's potential ominous sign was not welcome.

a few hours later i was reading in the the living room with the porch doors wide open. in flew the bird. the same bird. she flew in wildly and circled the room several times and flew out again. but this bird was not frantic. she wasn't lost or accidentally trapped or terrified or helpless. this bird seemed to know what she was doing. she seemed to choose to come back. to enter in. to bring herself to me. a messenger to call me out. to call me back. to remind me of things. of seasons. of histories. of lemon trees and birthings and losses. of time going on. of other places. of goodness. of things so much bigger than me. of the great wind. of God who speaks to me still in the wind. who says- I am here. I am wherever you are.

she swooped in with a knowing. to call me back to myself. to my voice. and to say:
 you too have choice. 
to enter. 
to go. 
to return. 
to fly.