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The Beauty Within My Hand

Georgia C. Spiller

 

Have you ever held the softness of love and all its awesome beauty within your hand? Today my husband and I had that thrill in the stillness of the coming evening on a warm day in the fall of 1995. We were builing an addition to our chalet which would give more comfort and ease of movement to me. I've been disabled by an incurable condition for the past four years.

As is our custom, each afternoon when my husband comes home from the hospital, we take a few minutes to walk around the site and see what's been done during the day. As we entered what will be our solarium, we heard the tiny humming noise of wings. Something was inside the room flying around where one of the skylights will be.

"Look at that!" Dennis said, "and he seems disoriented and can't find his way out." We had to get him down somehow, so he can get back outside. Dennis brought the ladder over and climbed to the ceiling. Then taking off his shirt, he talked softly to the scared little bird.

As he talked, the bird started hovering lower and lower along one of the beams. Then he found a place to land. As he rested, trying to regain some of his rapidly depleting energy, Dennis moved the ladder closer. He slowly reached over, covering the tiny creature with his shirt and brought him down.

He carried him to the open wall in what will be our master bath. We've been feeding the birds since we bought our home three years ago. We could see the many feederrs about 10 feet to our right on the deck outside our kitchen.

Now as he slowly uncovered the tiny pile of feathers, he placed it in my hand. I was looking into the eyes of this tiny, perfect miniature bird. I have never seen one of these marvelous creatures this close before. Even though I've managed to take pictures of them, and even had them buzz around my head while tending the plants or reading the paper on the deck, this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Truly one of God's perfect little specimens of wonder and beauty: the iridescent green color of his feathers, his tiny inch long beak, the two tiny curled feet and those beautiful tiny black button eyes. As I stroked his feathers, I could feel his minute heart beating madly in his breast, against the palm of my hand.

We were afraid he was going to die. He was so weak and didn't seem to have the strength to fly out of my hand. Dennis said, "Let's take him out to the feeders and see if he'll eat and maybe get enough strength to fly."

So he took him out of my hands and tenderly carried him out of the addition and through the main house to the deck off the kitchen. He tried to set him on a feeder, but the poor bird didn't seem to have the strength to hold on. Then he flew up under the balcony above the feeders and was just flying aimlessly, as disoriented as he was in the solarium. Dennis rescued him gently once again.

I took him in my hand and put some liquid nectar in the palm of my other hand, hoping he would eat, and not die as we watched.

All of a sudden, as if receiving some touch from God, he looked up at me and flew out of my hand. The wonder of it all - just awesome. He flew up to the top of the roof and into the dogwood tree as we watched, entranced. A few minutes later, I saw the second one come - a female - as if to guide him, and they both flew away.

What an absolutely awesome thrill it was to hold a hummingbird in my hand!


 

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