a bird’s eye view

a bird’s eye view

Earlier this week, sitting on my deck in the morning, I noticed a speck of turquoise on a nearby cushion. I picked it up and looked closer: it was half of an empty robin’s egg. I marveled at its loveliness, thankful for that color in the world and eyes to see it, and set it aside as I headed out the door for a walk.

A few minutes into my walk, I spied half of a white egg shell in the grass. Hmm, that’s odd: I’ve lived here five years, walked this block dozens of times, and never found egg shells. “God,” I asked, “are you sending me clues? If you are, would you send a third one? Not telling you what to do: just asking!”

I continued on, pondering as I walked, about what a tiny, frail bird might think as it breaks through its shell.

“this is exciting – i’ll get to sing with the other birds! … wait; this is harder than i thought it would be. … i see a peek into that other world: it looks big and blindingly bright and kinda scary. it’s so cozy in my egg; maybe i’ll just stay here. … but it’s also getting kinda cramped in here, and boring.”

You were made to soar and sing, little bird, but you can’t do either of those, stuck inside your safe little shell.

“okay, okay, God, i’ll go!”

20 minutes later, about half a block from home, I saw it in the grass: another half of a beautiful robin’s egg.

#tryhardthings

Originally posted on Instagram.