Sometimes you hold onto something that comes across your path. There may be a reason it’s just there, just then, and that you find it when alone.
And it may just be random randomness. 🙂 Ha, you thought I was gonna be heavy for a moment there, didn’t you?
Certain things catch my eye. Like a pink felt heart in a rain puddle, perhaps cut out by some schoolchild. Well, let him or her not feel bereft; it went to someone who thought it wonderful, and it still has a home atop the piano. It wasn’t meant for me, as were the tiny pine cones, white seashells and brilliant bluejay feathers, there, added unto the pheasant quills and the surprise catbird feather, but that is reality for you: You get a pink heart to take care of, whether you’re the right recipient or not.
There’s a small fat something-feather in the flip-top compartment of my car’s dashboard. It’s been there for weeks. I keep threatening to bring it indoors to safer-keeping, but I keep liking the seeing of it now and then by chance as I reach for my sunglasses. I was a little frazzled recently and stuffed something more in the flip-top, knowing full well I may’ve just crushed the feather. I thought, “Oh, grow up. It’s a freaking feather!!”
But found feathers are special, aren’t they? I would love to hear all the reasons why that is so, but I know it is so.
For two evenings, I kept looking at a spot on the floor in the garbage room at work each time I went in there (it appears just the way it sounds, except without mentioning twitchy florescent bulb lighting, and oil stains on the concrete). It took me two eves to go have a real look. Those would’ve been two verrrrrry busy daytimes in the garbage room which abuts the maintenance office. Why the tiny feather was still there by the evening of the second day, I’ll never know.
When I picked it up amidst the swill and stench, it was in perfect condition and in its original shape. I don’t know to whom it once belonged, but perhaps a junco. It fascinated me. There was something incredibly sweet about it, that little bit of perfection. Maybe it was just a reminder that there was real life somewhere, natural life. It’s not exactly a natural life inside the building.. not for any of us. Perhaps found feathers are a reminder that God is alive and well and busy creating and re-creating.
There was something all these weeks I wanted to tell you about this little feather. I didn’t know what, and still don’t — but I hope I have done so.