The Feather

Over time, feathers have become very meaningful to me. If, when I walk the grounds in contemplation of a problem and I find a feather that day, I feel that spirit has given me an answer in the affirmative. I now have a very comprehensive collection of them.

Finding the feather on this particular occasion brought interest into an otherwise colorless day.

I was out, sauntering through the fields on the property of our church. We have about ten acres (4ha) surrounding the church proper, with some of it mowed and kept neat and tidy, but some of it has been left wild. There is a nature walk that we mow about once a month so people can go back there and enjoy themselves in peace and solitude among the trees and plants. There is also an overgrown hillside that slopes down to a creek bed that divides the property from the neighbors'. When you get to the end of the nature walk, you then go to your right and this brings you into a large field that takes you back to the church proper and our new community hall. It is a wonderful outing that is very refreshing to the body and the soul.

So, back to my story. I was walking that day to clear my head and heavy heart. The doldrums of an illness that had kept me shut in lay heavy upon me. I needed the fresh air and to feel the welcome fatigue from walking for a half hour or so. The thought of being able to sleep that night without artificial means was extremely welcome.

As I tramped the familiar path, a touch of color to my right caught my eye. There, in mottled gray tipped in black it was, shaft pointing down, touching the earth. The feather stood amid the blades of grass looking like an arrow that had landed there.

It was neatly tucked in as if some unseen hand had artistically arranged it for viewing. Only about an inch of color marked its spot, but it waved like a flag to me. I could hear it whisper, "Here I am, pick me up and take me home. Tuck me in your hair for all to admire my simple beauty."

As I bent down to retrieve the feather from its honored place of rest, the flapping of wings and movement skyward caught my attention. I'm not sure what variety of bird it was, but I got the impression that it had been watching me the whole time. Maybe it was being protective of the feather and wanted to make sure that the right person found it.

And all the way home that day I kept hearing a whisper in my ear which repeated, ‘Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy.’

- Dee Pacheco 
Geneva, Ohio, U.S.A.