Not a car or person stirring in The Y or the huge shopping center parking lots near us on this Christmas morning. Only three individuals walking their dogs, and no cars moving on the streets running through the Jenner’s Pond Continuing Care Community in which we live. Everything and every household at least on the outside was unbelievably quiet where we live. Stopped my car and started walking to safely contemplate even more quietly alone on the banks of a creek in the woods in back of where we live.
Along the way, I paused to enjoy a look at a picturesque pond where I saw less than twelve feet away from where I was standing, silhouetted by brush on the edge of the pond – the most picture perfect scene of a Gray Heron I had ever been privileged to see, frozen in place to not give itself away. Slowly, but evidently not slow enough, I reached into my pocket to get out my smart phone to take a picture, but it detected my move and quickly flew to the safety of the other side of the pond and slowly landed to stand in the water. The picture in this post is obviously not the one I missed.
Mesmerized, I quietly sat down on a nearby bench and contemplated the wonder of the heron which had statuesquely retained it’s delicate, graceful upright pose. Perhaps it conveyed a message to me to keep the many ungainly parts of my own person in perspective by timely observing all that’s around me and when all else failed, fly safely from who or whatever might hurt or harm me. I thanked the heron for it’s undeniably wonderful sponsor free message by which I had been connected to nature on this Christmas morning. I hoped and prayed that the heron might remain safe and unharmed, so that we humans who are supposedly tending the earth for it and all other creatures, might continue to learn from it and all other forms which watch out for and help us. We’re all connected.
This was a God gift which I received on a wonderful 2015 Christmas morning. Couldn’t help sharing it.
Incidentally, in case you are wondering, this was the first Christmas morning my wife, Muff and I spent with just the two of us alone together for the 58 years of our marriage. After I observed the Gray Heron, I spent a delightful time with her in our apartment, looking at pictures and remembering our Christmas mornings together with our parents, children, grandchildren and their significant others. Tomorrow, after many afternoon happy phone calls with our family, we all gather together at one of their homes for our Family Christmas celebration.