why does remembering put me in a tail-spin?
Meeting Significance
Sometimes I get an overwhelming feeling of insignificance. When my children were young and more dependent, there was no time to consider that possibility. Now they are young adults, mostly self-sufficient, and sometimes I feel useless. My heart breaks at how they grew up away from me. On these dark days, I think about being divorced from their dad and wonder if I tried hard enough to save that marriage. As if watching a movie re-run, I see them going with their dad for the summer. I remember believing I could work hard and save money all summer for a place of our own. That did not happen and they never came back. The summer with their dad turned into the rest of their high school lives, and I felt so useless. Even though I participated in every aspect of their growing up, it was nothing like being with them under the same roof. With these heartbreaks alone, the feeling of insignificance grows and I find I have worked myself into an emotional darkness.
On days when those thoughts crowd my mind and threaten to drown out all sense of direction, I operate in 'stun-mode'. My demeanor is that of being in a cloud, it seems I simply exist - one foot in front of the other, inhale, exhale, blink. I have been told that in the Buddhist sense, this is exactly what one needs to do to get out of the cloud . . . be very present in the moment and pay attention. I doubt I will remember that when the cloud rolls around again, but it sounds helpful. I will most likely find myself at the car wash. The car wash is one of many places I can work off some energy, do something positive and have some think time.
One chilly late-spring afternoon, emotions heading for that dark cloud, I went to wash my car. I pulled into the do-it-yourself stall and dug through my pockets for quarters. There was that tacky little string of brightly colored triangular flags hanging over the doorway of the car wash stall; they flapped softly in the breeze. As I washed the car, thinking about where I was in this life and where I wanted to be, the flapping flags demanded my attention. The sound was odd, as if there were some unnatural reason for the new insistence with which the flags crackled. I looked up and saw a bird on the string of flags, flapping his wings wildly in earnest. It took a minute for me to realize he was not moving away, but I thought maybe it was feeding time for some baby birds somewhere above the door opening. “Maybe he is just having a hard time landing on that string,” I mumbled quietly. As I inched nearer, I saw one of his bird-feet claws was tangled in a knot of loose thread that had once held the flags in place. I stopped and looked harder, seeing that this little creature was tangled beyond what I would have first imagined. There was a knot of string as big as a golf ball surrounding one claw. I could tell he had all but exhausted himself trying to get free, and had inevitably made his situation much worse.
There was only one thing for me to do -- try to cut him down. I got into my car, backed out of the stall and pulled in again; this time I was closer to the side opening so I could use the car as a make-shift ladder. The bird was not thrilled with my idea. He panicked and flailed all the more, flapping his wings and squawking his protest. Still, I opened the door of the car, stepped up on the side, and climbed onto the trunk lid. Shakily, I stood to reach for him, and again, he attempted to get away, but then suddenly calmed, more from exhaustion than relief. I started talking softly to him, assessing the situation, and I reached for him. He did not move. I gently smoothed my left hand down his back until I had a light grasp on his wings, to which he responded with attempts to peck me. Steady was my grip, I let him peck as I gently held his little body still. I then used my right hand to start pulling at the threads with my fingernails. “Nothing doing,” I muttered to myself. That knot had been hours, maybe even all day in the making. I held onto the little critter and desperately tried to imagine what object I might have in my car to start cutting string. I had no purse with me, only my wallet. My keys would not cut; they were too cumbersome and not sharp enough. I looked around for someone at the car wash who might have something I could use. There was nobody else there. Just then, two young boys rode close by on their bicycles. I called out to them, asking if one had a knife and telling them the bird was tangled. They approached and checked me out, as if not prepared to answer in the affirmative just yet. I told them I did not care what they had or why, I just needed to help this little creature get free, and sure enough, one reached in his pocket and pulled out quite a whittler. He pushed a silver knob on the side of the knife and schwing! The blade sprung free, glimmering in the sunlight. A little gasp escaped my throat as I surveyed the implement. 'Sheesh,' I thought, but then quickly recovered, took the knife and stood to reach for the trapped one.
Again, gently stroking my left hand down the bird’s back to steady his wings, I started picking and cutting at the string. In less than three minutes the little bird was free and the knot of string cut from his claw. I was so excited, and the little bird knew he had been set free. I held him a minute, gently talking to him, giving him a quick look to see if he had been hurt. He seemed fine, so I released him and as he flew away, the leg that had been caught dangled freely below him -- it had been broken by his attempts to free himself. That did not seem to hinder him from leaving our company. He flew just fine! The young boys were cheering in excitement as he flew. I extended the handle of the knife to its questionably rightful owner and apologized for not knowing how to close it. The boys exchanged looks and giggles and asked me why I went to all that trouble. I said, "You know what? I think that's the only reason I'm here. I came to wash my car, but I believe I am here to set that little guy free." Then I asked them, “Do you know the Bible says that a bird does not fall from the sky that God does not know about?” The boys looked at each other and back at me as I went on. “I believe God cared enough about that little bird to see that someone came by to set him free.” Then I told them that God knew them too and that He cared about them. As they started to ride away, they made some awkward comments, something along the lines of, "That's cool." Watching them go, I thought about how nice it was to get to share a biblical encouragement with the kids. It reminded me of all the days and hours I had spent with my own children, sharing what I had learned.
Just then I realized that I was talking to myself, not just the boys. God says I am significant in His eyes. All those lessons came back to me and I was reminded -- God knew what I was in the midst of, and it mattered and there was One who came by just to make sure I got free. I just had to be still and let that One cut the strings that bound me.
i get up...i get down...close to the edge...