There’s one thing I know for sure: Moments of grace appear in my life exactly when I need them. Some are completely unexpected and rather spectacular (my husband), while others slip in gently, as if content to go unnoticed.
A recurring phenomenon is the appearance of feathers in my world. It’s become quite a thing, in fact; feathers seem to appear just when I need a gentle reminder that I am a child of God, that I am loved, that the universe has my back. (There are many, many examples, dating back several years, and I started this blog, in part, to chronicle them.) The following is a post I wrote in September of 2011. It still gives me chills.
MY DAUGHTER BEGAN her freshman year in college just two weeks ago. On the second day after dropping her off (and coming home without her), I found myself in deep mourning for the dramatic change taking place in my life. It was an emotion that caught me by by surprise—and after inexhaustible tears, I offered a deep and soulful prayer for help making my way out of the deep emptiness I felt.
The next morning I awoke to find this scene just out my kitchen window, in the pond behind our house.
What on earth is that, I thought, taking another sip of my coffee. I threw on some clothes, grabbed my camera, and headed across our damp yard to investigate. Is that… Surely it’s not… Can it be…
It took a moment to catch my breath. One feather, and then another, and then another, in every direction, as far as I could see.
The tears flowed, again. But this time they were different—these were filled with relief and joy and promise. And so I offered one more deep and soulful prayer.
This time, it was a prayer of gratitude.