“His heart has just become so hard,” she said sadly, as we were saying goodbye.
We’d talked about many things as she snipped and shaped my hair for the last hour or so, circling around as we often do to stories of the Lord. To a beautiful message her pastor taught recently echoing a theme strong in my own spirit lately. What if we really believed God not only could but will do what we are praying about? What if we came to Him so full of expectant faith, like the lepers, the woman who touched His hem, the friends of the paralytic?
“But he seems so lost…” she mourned, painting for me this one who means so much to her, but seems impossible to reach. “We were raised to believe, to trust in the Lord…but somewhere along the way he started listening to intellectual doubts in college…would not forgive God when we lost another we loved…” I pictured a ship tossing to and fro on waves, crashing on the shore of anger and sorrow and fist shaking at God who seemed not to answer an all important prayer… a wreck barnacled-over and crusty and filled with seaweed. But somewhere, a plaintive voice protesting too much. As though he is yearning for someone… somewhere… to restore his faith in the Father…
“I am going to pray for him with you,” I said as I followed her up the stairs and out to the front porch.
Her eyes swam, but her smile brightened. “Yes… that would be wonderful. He needs as many prayers as we can gather!”
I stepped out into the still sunlit evening, the door closing behind me, down the driveway to my car at the curb, and… jumped!
There… inches away from my face… stood a beautifully formed mourning dove. Perched on the edge of my car roof, like a living carved statue of feathery grey clay. Amazingly calm on the smooth finish, like the one that often stands on the roofline of my neighbor’s home. Sometimes on my back deck rail. Looking for all the world like a sentinel on guard at it’s post.
Poised facing the house, this one looked at me oh so gently… eyes meeting mine.
“Bird,” I addressed it, with a wave as close as I dared, “You’ll have to leave now.”
It remained, soulful eyes meeting mine. Completely at peace. Unafraid of even me.
I didn’t want to jar it by opening the door, so I tried again. And again. Laughed softly. It didn’t want to go.
Finally, I jangled my keys. With hesitancy…it soared off.
Not a mark on the car where it had been.
And as I climbed into my driver seat, I thought of the scripture CD I’ve had playing back and forth to work lately in my car. Of the Father’s Heart for the Prodigal Son-conversation left behind at the porch step…but just beginning to prayer in my thoughts… Of a bird that reminds me of His Holy Spirit. Perching on my car outside her home… as if to say… I’m with you both, watching over your prayer. I have him covered. I will never let him go…
Was that a little “song note” from you, Father?” I wondered aloud. Did that bird sense You here…?” I smiled. The CD began again with a beautiful promise filling my car…along with a fresh benediction of wing-tipped peace…
© Pam Depoyan
A Little Note More 🙂 : As I was drawing the lakeside cottage image above this weekend, I mused over a touch it seemed to need at the bottom… Thinking of that bird I often see on my neighbor’s roof, I suddenly remembered a sketch of a gull I could incorporate into this. Another sentinel of peace. And today’s moment with the dove reminds me of this same feel: All’s right with the world…because no matter what… God is watching over us. May that truth stand guard over your hearts in this moment and always…
Then I will ask the Father to send you the Holy Spirit who will help you and always be with you.
~ John 14:16 Contemporary English Version (CEV)
- help: The Greek word may mean “comfort,” “encourage,” or “defend.”
artwork: mine, under my copyright (please do not copy without permission. See my copyright info button on the sidebar. 🙂 )