It was a Sunday. A getting up early, pouring coffee, reading the morning paper, and touching up my husband’s shirt for church kind of day.  It was riding in the car, pulling close to the curb, entering the church, hanging up coats, sitting, praying, singing, listening, praising, and worshiping the Man I love, and who loves me even more, in spite of myself.

Then getting back in the car, headed home thinking of the message that gave me food for thought, praying silently for those on the prayer list, thinking about what I read on the front page, wondering when things would change.

Maybe going back to a simpler time, wishing those who have an agenda, and those who have little regard for life would have a change of heart.  Got out of the car, headed into the warm house, changed clothes, continued reading the paper, sighed, and laughed at my favorite cartoon, ” Mutts.”

Looked at the clock, nine-forty- five in the morning, silent questions, questions of what and why things seem topsy- turvy.  I think to myself as I watch and listen to the cries from a church bombing, fighting back the tears, then thought, how did we get to a place of so much unhappiness, hate, fear, pain, uncertainty?  

Shook the cobwebs of doubt out of my head, then went to the kitchen and put together a pot of Chicken Bowtie Soup.

One -thirty, time to leave to visit Zach, wondering how I would find him, prayed on the way, and thought positive thoughts.  In the parking garage, turned off the phone, walked up to the doors that opened automatically said a silent prayer to the lifelike statue of Jesus with arms spread wide, welcoming, eyes assuring me to trust Him.

Walked around the corner, past the little chapel, peeked in, small wooden pews, alter surrounded by fresh baskets of flowers, felt a sense of peace.

Then, pushed the button, nurse answered, my response, Grandma to visit Zach, heard the click, walked through the double doors, waited, loudspeaker crackling,” Zach to the snack room,” waited, around the corner, tall, newly cut hair, beard trimmed, walking towards me, my heart smiled, stood on tiptoes, hugged him like a grandmother bear would hug her grandson cub.

Sat in the snack room, talking, he looked good, conversations warmed the heart, glimmer of a young man taking one day at a time, a grateful grandma, prayed silently for a miracle, realized it is totally up to him.

Soon, hugs, kisses, love you, would you like a chocolate bar next time, I visit? Then the click, pushed the doors leading me out, quick peek in the chapel, thank you Lord for a pleasant visit, keep Zach in  Your loving arms.

Reached the front door, walked through, turned briefly, smiled, and a quick thank you to the bigger than life statue.

Then on the sidewalk, waited, cars passed, loud music, arguments spilled out of the windows, hurried to my car, got in, drove out of the garage, turned right, and headed for home.

On the highway, cars drove way too fast, in a hurry, listened to the radio, more news on the bombing, many, many killed, heart sank, why?

Pulled into my driveway, walked up to the steps, opened the door, walked in, home, home sweet home.

Brought the soup to a boil, added the noodles, thought about the day, felt happy on the one hand, felt sad and dishearted for the senseless deaths; felt the loss for the families facing pure heartache.

Then something pretty amazing happened. As I was stirring the soup, I heard a beautiful song. I glanced out my kitchen window, searching.

I have to admit that I was drawn to the beautiful white Dogwood in full bloom, hoping to see which one of the birds who visited me daily was singing their little hearts out. The gorgeous tree had no visitors at that moment.

Then as I walked back to the stove, the song touched my heart, louder and sweeter, drew me back to the window, and there, sitting in plain sight were two tiny birds, one branch, apart, singing, peeking at the window,  all the while touching my heart.

As I listened, a peace warmed by heart, and the song, Blessed Assurance filled my mind with an understanding that Jesus is mine.  The birds continued singing, as my heart began to feel lighter.  I believe that God sent those precious tiny birds to remind me that He is in charge and that I, we, need to keep looking up, praying, praising, thanking Him for what He has given us, and above all giving our hearts to Him.

I believe that change begins with each one of us. We are His Childen, and He is our Father.

I haven’t seen or heard those little crooners since, but the message they brought to me, filled my soul and reminded me of His mercy, grace, hope, and love.  And, for that, I am grateful.

Published by cynthiajeandeluca

My name is Cynthia Jean DeLuca. I am a wife, mother, grandmother, and great grandmother. I believe in following your dreams and never giving up! Helping others is very important to me, for when we help others, we help ourselves. It is my hope to make a difference in the lives of children and grown-ups. My hobbies are writing, quilting and painting. I am a novice at all three but, enjoy them immensely. I grew up on a farm with no indoor plumbing and no heat in our upstairs. I love life and have a very strong faith. Working on inspirational short stories for grown- ups. Love to speak on topics that touch my heart.

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