Lost and Found
A bird has taken refuge on my balcony. Out of all the rooftops, ledges, and railings in this city, it chose my balcony. There’s nothing to attract it here. No plants, no food, no soft corner to nest in. Just concrete, steel, and two cats watching it from behind glass. Yet it stays.
Its arrival felt almost deliberate. Just days before, I had been in one of those desperate conversations with God/Universe. The kind where you’re pleading and raging. My relationship with God is casual and unfiltered. I share everything: joy, shame, rage, grief, hope, love…all of it. That day, I was exhausted, working myself raw, running out of solutions. I demanded and begged for help.
A week later the pigeon appeared.
I love animals. Even the ones that I’m scared of still have a place in my heart. I’ve been trying to rescue this bird to no avail, but in the meantime, it appears to have me caught in thoughts and it’s teaching me more than I expected.
One evening, we stood together watching the sun melt into the horizon. It could fly anywhere. Instead, it chooses to remain here with me, clinging to a cold slab of concrete. It is free, yet captive to its own fear. Freedom exposes it to danger, and its safety keeps it trapped.
In that moment, I saw the myself in that little bird. The two of us mirrored. Two survivors seeking peace and security, both holding ourselves back, both free and not free.
I wonder if this was God’s answer to my plea. Not by sending someone to help me, but by sending someone for me to help. And I laughed about it too. Go figure I ask for help and I’m getting someone else to help. But maybe the pigeon is a lesson. I find my mind wanders every time a glimpse this bird.
Healing is a choice. Trauma can be overcome, but only if we decide to spread our wings and leave the cage. The trouble is, sometimes the cage feels safer. Sometimes our pain is so great we forget we have wings. Perhaps, we fail to realize that not everyone will hurt us. Some people want to help, to love, and to see us thrive. But the pigeon doesn’t know that yet. Perhaps it sees me as another human, and maybe that’s reason enough to stay away, perhaps human hands have failed it before. If it trusted me, I would give it food, warmth, and find it a safe home. But trust has to be offered freely, and it might never come.
And, interestingly, just before the big raging talk I had with God, I found life sprouting in unexpected places. I cut open a mango one afternoon and saw a root peeking out of the seed. I couldn’t throw it away. It clearly wanted to live. I wrapped it, planted it, gave it light and care. A I’ve sprouted a little seedling. The same with a pineapple top that began to root. Beside them stands my six-year-old money tree which is growing strong and lush.
The other day, I stood in the corner of my living room where all my plants are gathered. The pigeon perched on the balcony divider just outside, the two worlds meeting; my little jungle inside, the bird outside. I thought about how each of us, in our own way, was fighting for life. The plants pushing toward the light. The pigeon seeking safety. Me, holding it all together while trying to heal.
There was something beautiful in that stillness. Surrounded by life staring over trees and homes, rays of sunshine and clouds in the horizon.
Whatever storm you’re in, I hope you find moments like this. Moments where you notice the blessings hiding in plain sight. Where you look around and see life, hope, and possibility. Where you feel proud of how far you’ve come. Because sometimes, the smallest signs, whether it be a bird or a bit of green pushing through the soil, are the quiet proof that the storm will pass, and you will overcome whatever the odds may be.
And, sometimes a little help and a little pause are all we need to make it through.
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