A Little Birdie

My mother left today for Baltimore. I love my mom. I'll miss her. I'm so glad she came. Morgan was glad, too.

She called me from the airport to say she was about to board. Before she did so, she told me an interesting story. "Emily, did you read the card I left?" I had. On the front it had a picture of a bird. The inside began, "...Much too delicate for the harsh realities of this life, our little Simon has, like this little bird, flown to safer refuge." It was a beautiful description. I had to agree.

My mother continued, "I wrote that card last night. This morning when Morgan awoke I asked Morgan if she slept well. 'Yes I did! I had a dream about a little birdie! Tweet tweet!'"

My mother teared up telling this story. To be honest, I got shivers. I have no idea how my 3-year old, unprompted, dreamt about a little bird, the same bird that had been on my mother's mind the night before. I can acknowledge spiritual activity in my life, but to see the sensitivity of my daughter in this manner was difficult.

If you feel uncomfortable with this story, simply disregard the spiritual element. What youngster doesn't talk about all manner of creatures?

I feel absolutely skittish about it. But then, I felt uncomfortable with the strange peace God has already given me, the suffocating comfort of friends and, above all, the loss of our child.

I think I'll believe the story.