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Reassured by Avian Angels

Waiting for a sign that her departed mother was at peace, she received a flock of them.

An artist's rendering of Ann's bird messengers
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Starlings, blue jays, orioles—Mom had a special affinity for birds and an eye for spotting them. When I was a little girl, she gave me a book to help me learn the differences between them. We’d grab the binoculars and scan neighborhood treetops.

Birds remained a shared passion of ours as I grew up. We talked about them so much, even my husband, Fred, learned to identify our favorites! Sadly, this autumn had found Mom too sick with emphysema to talk nature. I sat beside Mom’s hospital bed, hoping she’d open her eyes.

The doctor warned me that she didn’t have much time. How would I know she was happy in heaven? “Mom,” I whispered, “please send a message once you get to heaven. Let me see a robin? Or an indigo bunting… or a cedar waxwing?”

Mom died later that evening. I told Fred about my request. “Robins are common,” I said, “but I haven’t seen a cedar waxwing in twenty-five years. And it’s the wrong time of year for indigo buntings. I don’t even know why I named those three birds.”

“You’ll get a robin,” Fred said. “Your mom loved those.”

A week went by, and the autumn trees remained empty. One chilly afternoon, as Fred drove me to work, I examined the passing lawns. Fred knew what I was doing, staring out the car window.

“Maybe a lot of the birds have migrated south already,” he said. Fred turned into the parking lot. A trio of robins splashed around in a puddle.

“Look!” I said.

Fred patted my knee. “Or maybe not!” he said. I couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the day. Something told me those robins were a heavenly sign meant for me. What could top seeing Mom’s favorite bird?

At home that night, my monthly wildlife magazine was waiting at the door. On its cover was a bright indigo bunting. On the reverse page? A cedar waxwing. Fred and I had to laugh. But the next day on my lunch break, I saw robins and cedar waxwings feasting on the berries of a crab apple tree.

There could be no doubt: God had taken Mom under his wing.

 

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