Boxing Day I was roasting a turkey, anticipating the arrival of some of the most special people to our Christmas feast all while padding around the house in my pjs and bare feet.
As I was placing napkins at each spot, movement outside the doors caught my eye.
A small crow walked to the bottom of the deck stairs, looking up as if it’s stare would bore hole in me.
I went outside towards it. It did not fly away.
I wondered if it was hungry with snow covering the ground. The peanut and almond butter I set at it’s feet went untouched.
I approached, slowly, cautiously. I bent low, and noticed how soft and fluffy the feathers on the top of it’s head looked … as if it were still young. I took a deep breath, and reached out … it didn’t move as I gently touched it’s head.
The day before, a crow was hovering near our front patio door, our kitchen window and deck. I felt certain that this was that same bird. Felt certain that it was asking something of one of us, of me.
I rummaged through my container of rags for an old towel.
I approached, reached out, petted it’s head, then slowly, carefully, lay the towel over the back of the bird, and scooped it up into my arms.
And it let me. It was as if I was simply fulfilling it’s wordless wishes.
For the next fifteen to twenty minutes I held that bird in the crook of my arm, watching it’s chest rise and fall, it’s eyes open and close, standing, barefoot, on my deck, while my turkey roasted and my preparations stood still.
Until the bird was still, and tears fell.
God said, “Don’t come any closer. Remove your sandals from your feet. You’re standing on holy ground.” Exodus 3:5
itsawonderfilledlife 