Ok...trying to keep on task now that the venerable Angela is reading my Blog......but alas, not much to say this morning, so I'm going to post yesterday's journal entry...

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Over the weekend, there was a hummingbird that got caught in my mother’s garage. She (unless it was an adolescent male) kept flying up around the ceiling instead of lower, so it couldn’t get back out the open garage door. You could tell the poor thing was exhausted. It kept landing on the wires of the door opening mechanism. Since I couldn’t coax it down by talking to it, I grabbed a ladder and went up to it’s level. Have you ever held a humming bird in your hands? Did you ever even entertain the thought that someday it might happen? The poor bird was to tired that it didn’t even move when I was right next to it, touching it lightly, barely breathing, afraid that if I held it too tight I would crush it’s fragile body. Afraid that if I didn’t hold tight enough it would just escape and continue it’s mad flight. The first try, I didn’t grab tight enough to keep him in my hands, but it was enough to find out she was bleeding. I cannot even begin to describe the emotion that welled up inside of me when I saw the drop of blood on my hand. It was such a small drop on my palm, but it came from such a small, fragile creature, that drop might as well have been a bucket. It was crushing. After a few more attempts, I realized that capturing her by hand was not going to work. Eventually, we got her to alight on a bucket lip, and then lowered it below door level and outside. She was gone in an instant. Just like our lives…delicate, fragile, and when looking at the large picture, gone in an instant.