Catch Your Breath

When I was about ten years old, I discovered a hummingbird lying outside our picture window. It’s little tongue was hanging out, and its eyes were closed. I gently took it in the palm of my hand and held it while I cried. I didn’t want the ants or a cat to get it, so I just held it, like children do. When I finally stood up to go tell my mother we needed to bury the bird, it suddenly perked its little head up, shook once or twice, and then flew away.

My eyes were as wide as the saucers on the kitchen counter when I went in stammering, “Mom, I think I just brought a bird back to life!” Looking down at my hands, I began contemplating how the power to raise the dead might affect my writing career, which I had earlier declared. I felt her put her arms around me and say, “Honey, that was a wonderful thing to behold. You did a good thing lifting it off of the ground. But the bird was just stunned, not dead. By holding it in your hand, you gave it time to be revived.” With that she kissed my head and walked away.

I sat down slowly at the counter, brushing my hands on my blue jeans, relieved that I could become a writer after all.

Maybe you are like a bird that has flown into a glass wall. It looked clear ahead. All the signs were there that you could continue on your flight path, and you were going at it full speed, when whack! The next thing you know you are on the ground, tongue hanging out, eyelids half closed.

You might feel stunned into silence, submission, inaction, defeat. You need to be revived.

Remember.  Revival begins with catching your breath again.