Pray: An unexpected gift

"I've been to church; I've read the book; I know He's here but I don't look near as often as I should.  Yeah I know I should.  His fingerprints are everywhere; I just slowed down to stop and stare; Opened my eyes and man I swear, I saw God today"  ---George Strait

I have always loved the George Strait song “I Saw God Today.”  I think it is a great way to simplify how God works in our lives.  He can give us the gift of one tiny flower blooming up through the concrete in a sidewalk (where it has no business being) and we are touched by the thought that He put it there “for us.”  

Not everyone sees things from this point of view.  I think that is okay.  But I had a compelling case for seeing God in a daily occurrence just yesterday.

I was walking in to an assisted living facility to see my last two patients of the day when I heard something up and off to my left.  I looked up at the ceiling on the open porch and there was a hummingbird franticly trying to free itself.  It could not figure out that the six inch overhang of wood surrounding the porch ceiling was the only thing keeping it stuck there.  All he had to do was fly down six inches first and he would be free.  Instead, he was fixated on a light fixture in the middle of the porch ceiling--convinced this was the exit.  I had seen a hummingbird stuck like this before on a friends porch who knew more about them than me.  And she said every now and then this “would happen” and the hummingbird would often die if she wasn’t at home to free it by gently pushing it free with a broom.  The hummingbirds fast metabolism requires that it eat about every two hours under normal circumstances (but under the stress of being trapped they would only last about an hour).

Right about the time I was pondering this situation a man in his fifties hurriedly walked out of the main door.  I said to him, “Hey, do you know where I can get a broom to help free this bird?”

“Yeah, he’s been stuck there for almost an hour,” the man said.

“Thanks for noticing buddy,” I thought to myself. 

“But there he comes, right now!” the guy said and pointed.  I turned around to my right (in the direction he pointed) and sure enough the little bird was fluttering to the ground.  “Oh no!” I thought.  

It was like watching one of the Jetson’s cars sputter and run out of gas.  For the first time in my life I could actually see the wingbeat of a hummingbird (they were moving so slowly) as he softly landed on the ground.  I immediately dropped my bags and scooped the bird up--just incase he tried to fly again--I didn’t want him to fly right back up into the same situation. 

He did not try to fly though.  He lay in my cupped hands without moving at all.  I was so upset.  “This little bird is going to die right here in my hands,” I thought to myself.  

Thinking that was his fate, I walked out to the lawn near the hedges that surround the building where I could lay the little bird down under a bush or something.  Something was very special about knowing I was holding a hummingbird that made me want to hold onto him a little longer.  I was wishing there was some kind of “bird CPR” I could do to him.  However, I knew what he needed was food and I had no means to give him any.

My hand was cupped but open.  He could fly away if he was able.  But for five minutes he just sat there in my hand.  He blinked every now and again but no other effort to move.  I was still hoping.  I wasn’t ready to give up on him, and seeing how aggressively hummingbirds fight over food at feeders I was convinced that he could muster up some strength from somewhere.  So in one last ditch effort to coax him to try, I began to “stimulate his feet.”  You know how when you push on the front of a parakete or other “house bird’s” feet they seem to automatically pick them up and perch on your finger?  I was hoping there was some sort of "perching reflex" I could stimulate by doing this.  (This was digging DEEP back into the neuroscience classes of PT school for Lucy).  I couldn’t believe it!  It was working.  The little bird began to open and close his feet and I felt him go from being “dead weight” in my hand to feeling more rigid and alert.  He picked his head up.  He came to full perch even!  He looked straight ahead just sitting in my hand, still resting for about two minutes like that.  

Then he turned his head back toward me one last time.  I saw him blink. And he flew off. 

I went in and treated my patients and told one of them (the one who was in her right mind) the story and showed her the pictures I had snapped off while holding him. I loved what she said, “Well, you rehabilitated more than just humans today.”

I guess I did.  And THAT was an unexpected gift from God.  I saw God today for sure.