This morning, after I fed the birds in the little park area in front of our home, I sat down to meditate near the trees. I watched these little birds come and eat, and I felt so happy I lost track of time.
There’s a crow who visits my balcony every morning for his feed. He once came into our home through the open balcony door, cawing to remind me it was feeding time.
There were times when I used to feel lonely. But now, with the crow visiting me and me feeding the birds, I realize no one is really alone. We’re all here together. We’re so connected.
I feel this is such a blessing. I feel connected to these beings, like I belong with them. The land where I feed the birds isn’t mine in the human sense, but I can still feed them there. The birds aren’t confined to me, but I still feel like we belong to each other. The trees aren’t confined to me either, but I feel I belong alongside them.
When we belong and coexist, there is no sense of controlling or owning. We’re living with them as family.
That’s when it hit me – I had it backwards. I used to think I needed to own things to truly enjoy them. Like the times I felt if I had a bigger outdoor area, I could have a bird feeder hanging in my garden or grow more plants and flowers to enjoy. But the truth is, I don’t need to own anything. Everything already belongs to me. The whole world belongs to all of us.
It really does feel like we all belong to it. The trees, the birds, the sky, the water – it’s all just there for me, for all of us. We belong to it, and it belongs to us.
I feel such abundance, such richness – not because I possess anything, but because I have access to everything through belonging. Everything is given to us without needing to grasp or control it.
I feel immense gratitude to our Creator for providing us with all that we need – everything is already given – and for all the beauty that’s already there for us to enjoy.
We can still grow plants or take care of our animal friends in our space, but that doesn’t restrict our sense of belonging to the vastness of creation.
This thought made me feel so vast, so free. I felt truly happy – not because I had something, but because I let go of needing to have it. The happiness comes from not controlling, not owning, just being and connecting.
We’re so blessed. We have this entire world, and we can experience it as belonging to us while we belong to it. When we see it that way, everything changes. We want to take care of it. We want to coexist with each other because we’re all part of this same beautiful belonging.
This is such a beautiful reminder to step out into nature whenever we feel down or alone – to realize the beauty and peace that nature offers, reminding us we’re never truly alone.
We’re all family, belonging to this unlimited creation – a gift of God’s unlimited love flowing through everything around us.
I must have been quite young, about 6-7 years, when I visited my father’s uncle in Adoni, a small city in Andhra Pradesh. That was the early 1980s, and their neighborhood had rows of small, tiled houses where everyone knew each other. It was a simpler time – not much of city development, just a close-knit community where neighbors seemed to care for each other. Their house was simple – a small house with a tiled roof with just three small rooms: a living room, a small kitchen, and a bedroom. What fascinated me most was the little room on the tiled roof that you could climb up to reach. It felt like a secret hideaway in that modest home.
They didn’t have a bathroom inside the house. Instead, we used the communal street bathroom. As a child accustomed to indoor bathrooms, this was genuinely difficult for me, but I managed. My parents had taught us to adjust gracefully when staying with others, to not make the hosts uncomfortable. They had shown my siblings and me that love and kindness mattered beyond anything.
Adoni Thatha (that’s how I called him) was a happy man who always lovingly addressed me as “Bangaru” (gold). He had this innocence about him and the way he laughed. He had a positivity that even as a young girl, I could feel – perhaps because I had experienced the absence of such warmth before. I felt happier around him and safe.
Looking back, I realize he was the first grandfather figure I felt connected to. Both my grandfathers had passed away before I was born. Even though we did not interact much, the time with him felt like being with my own grandfather.
What I remember most vividly is the Adoni upma that Avva (his wife, grandmother in my language) would make for me. I remember Thatha would rave about this food as it is a traditional food of the city and told me I would love it. He had asked his wife to make this for me. It is my favorite to this day. This south Indian upma was made with puffed rice that was soaked in water and drained. It was made mostly the usual way of making upma but at the end garnished with crushed roasted gram dal and roasted peanuts.
The Parrot with the Broken Wing
One of the most beautiful memories from that visit was a green parrot that Adoni Thatha cared for. This bird had fallen and broken its leg, and I watched how tenderly he took care of it. He kept the parrot in a cage to help it heal. He would take the bird out, wrap its leg with a bandage, and talk to it lovingly. He allowed me to play with the bird, and he would become like a child himself, playing and feeding it.
What touched me even more was learning later – months or maybe years after my visit – that once the parrot’s leg had completely healed, he set it free. This was one of the earliest memories I have of kindness to an animal that stayed with me. Even though he loved the bird dearly, he chose to let it fly away when it was ready. His love for the bird meant wanting it to be free.
Community Friendship
Adoni Avva was equally wonderful. I remember accompanying her as she worked with other women in the community, making cotton threads for lighting lamps in the temple. I don’t remember exactly what I did during those gatherings, but I remember I would observe how it is done and she let me weave a few cotton threads and taught me how to.
I would tag along when she went to visit her friends. As a child, I remember enjoying just observing the surroundings and soaking in the newness of the experiences.
What Children Remember
Looking back now, I realize something profound: children remember kindness above all else. Despite the uncomfortable bathroom situation, despite being in an unfamiliar place with relative strangers, what stayed with me was love.
I wasn’t there with my parents and siblings – it was just me in that small house with these caring people who made sure I felt welcomed, fed, and included. They could have seen my visit as an inconvenience, but instead they treated me, a little girl, like a treasured guest.
They took me around the community, introduced me to their world, and shared their simple but meaningful life with an open heart. In their small house, they made sure I had everything I needed to feel at home.
These memories have stayed with me, not because of any grand gesture or expensive gifts, but because of the genuine warmth I felt in that little house in Adoni. It taught me that hospitality isn’t about having the perfect home or the finest things – it’s about making someone feel truly seen, loved, and valued, and genuinely welcomed with your whole heart.
For over a year, I had been feeling this desire to feed the birds. Living in a condo without the possibility of having a bird feeder on my balcony, I felt to go to PetSmart and buy bird food and feed birds outdoors. But I didn’t act upon it – my procrastination got in the way.
Finally, last week, I felt at least this year I should do it and act upon it. And I did it. The idea came to me: why not go to the trees in front of our home, to the little park area where there are trees? Why not feed them there?
I bought a bag of bird food – dried corn, seeds, and peanuts – and began my morning routine of feeding the birds under the trees in the park area in front of our home during my walk with my dog, Tuffy. Watching them come and eat filled me with such joy.
God’s Provision for His Little Ones
This morning, I woke up a bit late and made my way to the trees around 10 AM with my bag of bird food. As I was scattering the seeds on the ground, I noticed a lady walking toward the same tree. We smiled at each other, and she asked, “Do you feed the birds?”
“Yes,” I replied, “I just started doing this recently.”
What she told me next revealed the beautiful miracle unfolding. She had been feeding these same birds for the past year. Right there, in the very tree where I had been placing food on the ground, she had three bird feeders hanging – feeders I had somehow never noticed.
With tears in her eyes, she shared that she was moving away at the end of this month. She was heartbroken thinking about the birds who had come to depend on their daily feeding. Who would take care of them? She couldn’t bear the thought of these little creatures going hungry.
And there I was – having just begun this same calling on the exact same tree, just one week ago.
“Don’t worry,” I told her, “This is taken care of. I will continue feeding them.”
In that moment, I saw so clearly how God orchestrates His care for even the smallest of His creatures. The birds would not go unfed. One instrument was preparing to leave, and another had already been called into place. The same work of love, continuing seamlessly through different hands.
As we talked more, Marianna (she graciously allowed me to share her name and our story) showed me how to properly use the bird feeders. We discovered we had so much in common – both of us believers in listening to God through our hearts, both drawn to the same spiritual language.
Marianna and me by the tree
I shared with her how there was a time when I felt deeply connected to the trees, when I would hug one particular tree daily, asking it to be my friend and give me strength – to help me become solid and humble like the tree itself, unassuming and non-presumptuous.
She smiled and said “I have a tree I hug every day too.”
How can such connections be mere coincidence?
Reflections on Divine Orchestration
This whole experience revealed such a beautiful truth to me. It’s not about me or Marianna at all – it’s about God’s tender care for these little birds. They needed to be fed, and He made sure they would be.
One instrument was preparing to leave, and another had already been prepared and placed. The same work of love continuing through different hands. How perfectly He orchestrates!
This experience reinforced what I believe: that God takes care of everything. When we stay in the moment and listen to what our heart is telling us – we become part of His plan. This is what matters most to me: trusting that God handles everything, that He knows everything, and that He is as close as we can imagine, even beyond that.
It’s important to remember and remind ourselves that this is not something we are doing – or to feel great about it. It’s humbling to realize and feel that we are just instruments in God’s hands, just as Marianna was His instrument for the past year. The birds’ needs never go unmet because God sees them, cares for them, and provides for them through willing hearts.
This is the miracle: not the human connection, but the divine provision. God’s seamless care for His creatures, ensuring that the food these birds depend on continues to come, day after day, through whoever He calls to serve. And in this calling, we discover the most intimate relationship of all – with the One who knows everything, who orchestrates everything, who is closer than close.
Thank You, God
Thank you, Marianna, for listening to your Heart and feeding these birds so lovingly, and for helping me see how beautifully God provides for His creation.
And thank you, God, for using us both in Your perfect plan to care for these little ones. Thank you for showing me that even the birds are not forgotten, and that You make sure they are fed through willing hearts.
The miracle isn’t in human connections – it’s in Your seamless, tender care for every living creature. How amazing that You would call me to continue this sweet work of feeding Your birds.
But it’s not just the birds who are taken care of. God’s love is so complete that everyone is taken care of. Marianna and I are both filled with joy, gratitude and trust in You.
Every time we hear God’s voice in our heart and act upon it, we are transformed. When we become His instruments and don’t claim responsibility for ourselves, we are changed in the humblest way. God’s love transforms everyone who is touched by it – it transforms everything connected to it.
Sometimes the most profound truths are revealed in the simplest acts: that God sees, God cares, and God provides – even for the smallest sparrow.
After winter’s grip, when darkness falls at four, And cold restricts my breath, my walks, and more, Boredom and laziness creep like frost across my mind, As sinus troubles leave me slow, confined. Headaches plague me when I dare to step outside, Despite layers double-covering me, head to toe, I hide.
But March arrives with warming, gentle rays, Inviting me to venture out with confidence these days. Without the fear of sinus pain and strife, I breathe fresh air that reinvigorates my life.
The birds return, their songs fill morning skies, Virginia’s Warbler notes so crisp and clear, The Towhee’s gentle mew, a sweet surprise, Grosbeak’s calls that make each pathway dear, Titmouse chatters as the sun does rise, While Sapsucker’s odd voice brings springtime near.
Their symphony, a healing music so sweet, As daylight stretches, winter’s grip retreats. My dog bounds joyful on our lengthened walks, Smelling gleefully the fresh grass wet from night’s rain. While nature silently, yet deeply talks Through tender buds and leaflets, bright and new, And cherry blossoms, pink in morning dew.
My body freshens with the vitamin D, As sunlight bathes and sets my spirit free. The people, too, emerge with brightened face, With random chats and smiles in every place. The elderly venture out to feel the sun, Acknowledging that spring has now begun.
This season celebrates renewal’s power, As hibernation ends with every flower. My hibernation’s physical souvenirs Dissolve with steps that banish winter’s hold, As longer trails and warmer days unlock The energy that winter had suppressed, My limbs feel lighter, spirit less distressed.
Spring whispers promises of life reborn, As butterflies and honeybees swarm blooms just formed. Tulips unfurl in vibrant celebration, Virginia Bluebells carpet forest floors with blue elation. Bloodroot – lovely and delicate – dots leaf-covered ground, Where Shenandoah trails with spring’s treasures abound.
My balcony awaits its freshly potted flowers, A tradition kept through countless springtime hours, Each year to nurseries with my son I go, A cherished ritual since he was five years old. We carefully choose blooms, his picks and mine, Our balcony transformed to my happy shrine.
This special place where hours slip away, As I watch sky and trees throughout the day. I meditate and listen to the birds, Their evening murmuration needs no words, Inspiring me to write, my journaling, poems and stories.
Happy, cheerful, fresh – the words that fill my heart, When spring approaches and winter’s clouds depart. My inner landscape mirrors spring’s release, Each blossom bringing undoubted peace.
Bumble bees buzzing on golden daisies Butterflies hovering on delightful pansies Fireflies glittering in evening’s glow Dragonflies hovering in starlit snow Thank you, God, for your beautiful artistry
Zebra galloping swift and strong Deer leaping with graceful joy Monkeys swinging between trees in glee Majestic lions roaming wild and free Thank you, God, for your strength divine
Woodpeckers drumming on sturdy tree bark Owls hooting tales through moonlit dark Hummingbirds dancing with whirring wings Sparrows greeting morning as they sing Thank you, God, for this heavenly chime
Red and white roses in bloom, their passion unfold White jasmine’s intoxication, a treasure to behold Gardenia’s creamy petals whisper deep forest essence Lavender purple, calming peace in twilight presence Thank you, God, for each fragrant prayer
Nature’s symphony – wind, water, song Whispers of hidden stream that gently hum along Distant roar of waterfalls, reminding of a thunderous rain Cool breezes dancing to ease summer’s strain Thank you, God, for Earth’s eternal hymn
Once upon a time, in a distant realm, there was an enchanting forest. The forest, home to evergreen trees, birds of many kinds, animals, and insects, sang with beauty, happiness and mystery in its full splendor.
Tall and ancient sequoias, which had lived for thousands of years and stretched endlessly to the sky, were the eldest guardians of this forest. All the beings in the forest believed their emerald crowns could touch the heavens and sing praises of the Creator. These giants bore the wisdom of ages, having witnessed the first of many creations in the forest. Their massive trunks symbolized strength, their firm roots on Earth showed their humility. These humble giants knew every flower that bloomed, every bird that sang and understood all languages of the animals, insects and birds. All beings in the forest called them “the elders” and revered them with love and admiration.
Among these giant sequoias, Eirene was the forest’s eldest guardian. At over 4000 years old, Eirene stood tallest and wisest. On full moon nights, the whole forest gathered at her feet, where Eirene would sing songs of creation, of love, and of divine purpose.
On one such night, Eirene sang – her voice soft as rustling leaves, while all the beings listened with reverence and open hearts.
Bumble bees buzzing on golden daisies Butterflies hovering on delightful pansies Fireflies glittering in evening’s glow Dragonflies hovering in starlit snow Thank you, God, for your beautiful artistry
Zebra galloping swift and strong Deer leaping with graceful joy Monkeys swinging between trees in glee Majestic lions roaming wild and free Thank you, God, for your strength divine
Woodpeckers drumming on sturdy tree bark Owls hooting tales through moonlit dark Hummingbirds dancing with whirring wings Sparrows greeting morning as they sing Thank you, God, for this heavenly chime
Red and white roses in bloom, their passion unfold White jasmine’s intoxication, a treasure to behold Gardenia’s creamy petals whisper deep forest essence Lavender purple, calming peace in twilight presence Thank you, God, for each fragrant prayer
Nature’s symphony – wind, water, song Whispers of hidden stream that gently hum along Distant roar of waterfalls, reminding of a thunderous rain Cool breezes dancing to ease summer’s strain Thank you, God, for Earth’s eternal hymn
Listening to Eirene’s deep and soothing voice, Reya felt peace settle in his heart. Gratefully, he touched his chest with his wings, a tear dropping from his eyes. Majestic and watchful, he perched on Eirene’s ancient branches, his yellow beak shining like shimmering gold. His sharp yet gentle eyes gazed at his family nest, where his young chicks slept peacefully.
Reya had immense gratitude for the forest. In the shelter of Eirene’s roots lay the beginning of Reya’s story – an egg tossed by a mighty storm, found and protected by the entire forest. Eirene felt motherly towards this egg and whispered to her forest friends, who kept the precious egg warm and safe. When the chick hatched, Eirene named him Reya, and the forest became his first teacher.
The forest creatures became Reya’s family, each teaching him in their own way. The sparrows shared their joy of flight, the lion taught him courage in silence, and Eirene, with her ancient wisdom, became more than a teacher – she became the mother his heart needed.
As seasons passed and Reya watched his own chicks grow, a quiet sadness became to stir his heart. Each night, as the forest settled into darkness, questions about his past surfaced. Even surrounded by so much love, there was a gentle ache he couldn’t quite name – especially when he watched his little ones nestled close to their mother.
One day, Reya sat quietly on his branch, deep in thought.
Eirene noticed the sadness in Reya’s eyes and asked:
“What is in your mind, Reya?”
With his eyes lowered, Reya said:
“My heart overflows with gratitude for all I have received. You have been more than a guardian, Eirene – you and the forest have been the family I needed. You taught me not just how to live, but how to understand the Creator’s Love.”
Reya paused.
Eirene said gently,
“That is the Will of God. He wants you to be happy and ensures you get the help you need. We were just His instruments, doing what we were meant to do. Every forest creature who helped raise you was His way of holding you close. He speaks to us through the love we share. I am grateful to Him that you are grateful, my dear Reya. But tell me, what is troubling you?”
Reya looked away.
“I am grateful for everything, but lately my heart feels heavy. When I see my chicks with their mother, I can’t help but wonder about my own parents. There’s a darkness inside me I can’t shake, even though I know I should feel only gratitude. Please forgive me.”
“And, if it is in His Will that I must be happy, why does my heart still ache?” Reya asked softly.
Eirene looked at Reya with kindness as a gentle breeze stirred the air. She spoke softly,
“My dear Reya, what you’re feeling isn’t wrong. Missing your parents while being grateful for your present life – both can exist together. ”
She paused before continuing,
“The Creator gave us free will because love cannot be forced. Each challenge – each life facility – is an opportunity to choose love again. Your sadness isn’t a failure, Reya. It’s part of your journey home to Him.
Life gives us challenges – what I call life ‘facilities.’ Each difficulty is an invitation to grow closer to the Creator. Your sadness about your parents is one such ‘facility,’ a chance to deepen your understanding of true love.
My dear Reya, our Creator speaks to us from our hearts. Beneath every voice that guided you, behind every act of love from our forest family, there has always been one true Parent – our Creator. Listen to Him. When we surrender to His love, joy and peace follow.
As you meditate, you hear His voice more clearly, and you realize He is with you all the time and only we choose to move away from Him due to our own busyness and wants. The act of surrendering ourselves to Him and living each moment completely in the present brings us joy and peace. We act out His Will as we surrender to Him. It is a joy that needs to be experienced. Do not worry, Reya. I will pray to Him for your peace.”
Eireen smiled and closed her eyes for a moment in a heartfelt prayer. When she opened them, the sun was setting, painting the sky in blazing orange and soft pink. The birds chirped joyfully as they returned to their nests, bringing a sense of calm to the forest.
Eireen looked at Reya with gentle kindness and said,
“Reya, just touch your heart. Smile to your heart with the same happiness you feel when you see your chicks. Feel the gratitude. When you feel naturally at peace, close your eyes and meditate. Remember, our Creator has given us everything in this moment. Ask Him for faith, for trust. Pray to him wholeheartedly, Reya. He is always listening to you and helping you.”
Eirene closed her eyes and continued,
“Thoughts are like a web. The more we think, the more we become trapped, like a little fly. The only way out is to relax, smile and touch our Heart. Feel the Love. That Love will free you from your thoughts.”
Reya with tears in his eyes and a heart full of gratitude, said,
“Thank you Eirene. Thank you for listening to me. I feel much lighter. I will do as you say.”
With that, Reya closed his eyes and touched his heart with his wings and sat in deep silence.
Days passed, and Reya meditated each morning and evening. Slowly a gentle peace began to settle with him.
One morning, while flying far from his nest to gather food for his chicks, Reya felt something in his heart – a quiet but clear voice urging him to return home. Without hesitation, he turned back immediately.
As he approached the forest, he saw smoke rising above the trees. He flew towards the danger and discovered flames spreading through the forest. He found young birds trembling in their nests, unable to fly. Without a second thought, Reya began gathering them on his strong wings, carrying them to safety.
Flight after flight, he returned to the flames, rescuing as many as he could. The heat scorched his feathers, and his wings ached, but Reya kept going. He guided smaller creatures to shelter and refused to rest until every creature he could find was safe.
When the fire finally subsided, Reya sat quietly on Eirene’s branches. His body was tired, but his heart was light and content.
“How did you know to come back?”, asked a young sparrow that he had rescued.
Reya was silent for a moment before answering with deep gratitude,
“I heard a voice in my heart. It guided me to save our forest family. It was the voice of our Creator.”
Eirene, who had stood strong through the fire, spoke softly.
“You see, Reya, our Creator’s Love flows through our actions. Today, you were His instrument, just like when the forest creatures were His arms of protection for a lost egg.”
Reya looked at his wife and his sleeping chicks, safe in their nest. He understood now – his story wasn’t just about living but about living with purpose: to serve the Creator and extend love to others.
That night, Reya felt complete. His meditations have prepared him to trust the quiet voice of love within his heart. Reya was finally at peace, knowing his true Parents have been with him all along, residing in his heart.
As all the forest settled into a peaceful evening, Eirene sang in joy:
Praise to You, our Creator of Peace Praise to You, our Creator of Joy Praise to You, the most Powerful Praise to You, the Gentlest Praise to You, the True Source of Unconditional Love
Thank you for giving us all we need without us having to ask Thank you for being the voice in our hearts, guiding us to our True Home Thank you for forgiving us for our mistakes Thank you for healing us Thank you for loving us unconditionally
Praise to You, our Creator of Peace Praise to You, our Creator of Joy Praise to You, the most Powerful Praise to You, the Gentlest Praise to You, the True Source of Unconditional Love
That famous line from the movie, Groundhog Day, has always stayed with me:
“I wake up every day, right here, right in Punxsutawney, and it’s always February 2nd, and there’s nothing I can do about it.“
It’s funny how a lighthearted movie from 1993 would later help me understand something profound about daily life.
Living in our top-floor condo, I’m blessed to witness each sunrise through the glass walls of our home. These morning moments have been sacred – a time to be present with our Creator, to feel gratitude, and to ask guidance to align my actions with His Will. As I practiced living more from the Heart, these sunrises took on a deeper meaning, gently reminding me to pause and connect with what truly matters.
During a phase when I got caught in some patterns that triggered the negativities within, I felt a fleeting sense of hopelessness about myself. But like many difficult moments, this one led to an unexpected gift of understanding.
One morning, while praying and watching the sun rise, I was reminded of Groundhog Day. In the movie, the protagonist wakes every morning to the same day, initially feeling stuck and frustrated. But as he begins to embrace the repetition, he discovers he can make better choices and live from a more meaningful place. I realized that each day offers us the same opportunity. Each morning is a fresh chance to choose our Creator in everything we do.
I began to see every day as a gift – a single day to walk, talk, eat, drink, listen, and interact from the Heart, for our Creator. This perspective led me to start a nightly journaling practice. At the end of each day, I reflect on moments I’m grateful for and areas where I can grow. Then, in prayer, I surrender all my efforts and desires to our Creator, trusting that His Will is far greater than anything I can imagine or understand.
Over time, this practice became like a lighthearted game I play with myself – taking away any heaviness or stress about “doing it right.” Each sunrise becomes a cheerful “here we go again” moment, like the movie, but with playful enthusiasm for the new opportunity ahead. This sense of play makes it easier to be gentle with myself, to approach each day’s choices with curiosity rather than judgment.
This spirit of playfulness extended into every part of my day. Whether responding to work emails, doing household chores, or scrolling through my phone – each moment became another chance to choose our Creator’s love. Even technology, which often pulls us away from presence, became part of this gentle game of staying heart-centered.
Each sunrise reminds me that our Creator gives us a new day, a new chance to choose love. Just as the sun rises fresh each morning, we too can begin again, carrying this lightness into everything we do – from the biggest decisions to the smallest daily tasks. At day’s end, reflecting in my journal helps me notice these moments – both when I remembered to act from the Heart and when I forgot. This isn’t about judging myself, but about gently observing and learning, always with that playful spirit of “let’s try again tomorrow.”
Each day brings this gentle reminder – that like the protagonist in Groundhog Day, we can choose to see repetition not as being stuck, but as a gift of continuous renewal. In this simple practice of greeting each dawn with gratitude, reflecting each evening with humility, and carrying a playful heart through it all has taught me to make each “same day” new again.
Perhaps you too have found your own way of making each day a fresh beginning. I’d love to hear how you approach this daily journey of the heart.
The sky bursts into magnificent shades of orange and red, like flames dancing across the clouds. City buildings stand dark against the brilliant sunrise, their silhouettes sharp and strong. Against this stunning backdrop, Ann stands at her balcony with her precisely made coffee: two specific spoons of instant coffee from different brands, mixed until they create the perfect foam and topped with exactly half a cup of frothed almond milk. These careful rituals have become her anchor in a world that feels increasingly overwhelming.
Nature’s Messengers
On the Eastern Redbud tree overlooking her balcony, four of God’s messengers gather as they do every morning. Their daily ritual of watching over Ann has become their own sacred practice.
“Another beautiful sunrise,” Zeo, the yellow butterfly with blue stripes, whispers as she settles on a branch. “Each new day is a chance to share God’s love.”
“Ann seems more tired today,” Pip the sparrow observes gently, tilting his head. “I’ll sing an extra sweet song this morning – sometimes a single note of joy can lift a heavy heart.”
“We must be patient,” Luna, the grey moth, shares from her quiet corner. “Just as God waited for me to understand that beauty exists in darkness and light, Ann will find her way. Until then, we’ll keep her company in our own ways.”
Rio, the hummingbird, pauses between visiting flowers. “Every bloom I touch is a prayer,” she hums. “Each flower blossoms exactly as God created it – offering its unique gifts with joy, whether it’s color, fragrance, or sweet nectar. They don’t compete or compare; they simply bloom and share God’s love in their own perfect way.”
The Silent Watchers
They watch as Ann puts on her noise-canceling headphones, blocking out their messages of hope. Yet they remain faithful to their purpose, these small angels in nature’s garden. Her golden lab, Tuffy, shares their mission in his own way. During their walks, while Ann hurries along with her headphones firmly in place, Tuffy feels the grass beneath his paws, catches the scent of morning dew, and notices every squirrel and butterfly. He never grows impatient with her hurried pace; he simply keeps offering these moments of joy, trusting she would notice when she’s ready.
The Awakening
Then one morning, halfway through their walk, Ann’s headphones die unexpectedly. The sudden silence feels like a shock. Frustrated, she removes them, and that’s when Pip sees his chance. He flies closer than usual, singing the song he’s been practicing just for her.
“Listen,” he seems to say, “God’s love is in every note.”
For the first time, Ann really hears the chorus of morning songs weaving through the air. She finds herself smiling, surprising herself. She notices the way sunlight filters through leaves, the gentle sway of trees in the morning breeze, the different pitches of birdsong.
The Journey Begins
The next day, though her headphones are fully charged, she finds herself removing them halfway through her walk, curious to hear the birds again. Walking along the trail, she finds comfort in the gentle presence of trees lining both sides of the path. Beneath their canopy, she feels her shoulders relaxing, her steps becoming lighter. She notices how the morning light filters through the leaves, creating patterns that dance with each breeze. Something about being among these quiet giants brings a peace she hadn’t known she was missing.
Each day, she starts looking forward to these moments of quiet discovery. What begins as a simple week-long experiment slowly changes something deep within her. Walking among the trees, she feels a subtle energy, as if their very presence is nurturing her spirit back to life.
The Transformation
Gradually, Ann’s carefully structured routines begin to soften. Her morning coffee ritual remains, but instead of immediately reaching for her headphones, she finds herself lingering on the balcony, watching the day unfold. From their branch on the Redbud tree, the four divine friends watch her transformation with joy.
“See how she notices the small things now,” Zeo flutters with excitement. “Just as God’s love appears in unexpected moments.”
“She’s learning to be still,” Luna observes. “Like how evening shadows teach us that rest is also part of God’s plan.”
“And look how she takes time with each flower now,” Rio adds, “finding sweetness in the present moment, just as God intended.”
Finding Joy
Pip’s morning songs become Ann’s natural soundtrack, more soothing than any musical album. The hummingbird’s focused dance among her flowers shows her how to be present in each moment. Her evening walks with Tuffy change too. She begins to match his unhurried pace, letting him stop to investigate interesting smells, watching how he approaches each moment with fresh curiosity. She begins to appreciate Tuffy’s innocence, unconditional love and finding joy in the simplest moments. The setting sun paints the sky in soft colors, and sometimes Luna flutters past, reminding her that beauty exists in all forms, at all hours.
The Inner Voice
One morning, as Zeo makes her daily visit, Ann realizes something has shifted within her. The heavy feelings haven’t disappeared entirely – they’re part of her journey – but they no longer feel like walls closing in. Instead, like the butterfly that returns despite rain or wind, she has found a quiet persistence within herself.
“Each flower gives what it has,” she hears a voice deep within her heart. Each flower, each bird, each creature has its own way of sharing love with the world. No one better than another, each one perfect in its own right.
Coming Home
As days pass, Ann’s awareness deepens. She begins to realize that these creatures are more than just chance encounters – they’re messengers of divine love, each offering their unique gift. Zeo brings reminders of joy’s persistence, Pip shares songs of morning hope, Luna shows the beauty of quiet presence, and Rio demonstrates how to find sweetness in each moment.
She realizes something profound: she has never truly been alone. All along, she’s had these beautiful companions – the trees offering their steady presence, the birds sharing their songs, the flowers blooming faithfully, and even Luna appearing in the evening hours. She can talk to them, share with them, find comfort in their constant presence.
Together, they form a small choir of God’s love, and Ann has finally joined their song. Now, as she sits on her balcony each morning, coffee in hand and heart open to their presence, she hears the divine melody that has always been there, waiting for her to listen.
Depression crept in during what felt like the darkest phase of my life. Years of carrying unexpressed feelings had taken their toll – childhood hurts, trauma, and patterns I hadn’t even recognized. I had developed ways of coping that I didn’t even realize were coping mechanisms: trying to keep everyone happy to prevent any discord, bending backwards to maintain harmony. Yet paradoxically, I would sometimes experience sudden bursts of anger toward loved ones – reactions to hurt that would erupt because I had no other way to express my pain.
Growing up in a joint family, where multiple generations lived under one roof, I learned early to navigate around tensions. When voices were raised or feelings expressed too freely, punishment followed. These lessons stayed with me, shaping how I moved through relationships, always trying to keep peace at the cost of my own truth.
After my father’s passing, old hurts surfaced in ways I had never experienced. Grief opened doors I had kept tightly shut, and through them came waves of resentment and pain. Life seemed to conspire to bring more difficult experiences – harsh words from others that cut unusually deep. I felt myself breaking.
Ironically, in my darkest moments, I stopped doing the very things that had helped me before. Meditation, which had been my anchor, felt hollow. Talking to understanding friends seemed impossible. I retreated into silence, feeling utterly alone and unrecognizable to myself. The ways I had learned to cope, to find joy, to make sense of life – nothing seemed to work anymore. I felt lost in a deep shame, afraid to be alone with this version of myself I no longer knew. All my efforts to choose happiness felt like they had been just surface-level pretense.
But something in me kept moving. I started to run – not for fitness, but from an instinct to survive. I ran from my fear, my anxiety, my pain, pushing myself as far and as fast as I could. Tears would stream down my face as I ran, and I stopped caring who might see.
During this time, I also began talking therapy. These sessions helped me untangle mental knots I hadn’t even known were there, helping me understand patterns that had been invisible to me before. While therapy helped clear these mental blocks, nature offered something different.
Along my running route, I noticed a tree. It stood tall and kind, and something about its presence spoke to my heart. I began to stop at the bench overlooking this tree during my runs. I would sit there, relaxing my body as I had learned in meditation practice, talking to the tree as a friend. I found myself sharing freely about how I had been feeling, and asked for its help to find positivity and happiness again. Each day before leaving, I would hug and kiss the tree goodbye. These moments made me feel understood, assured, and strong – as if the tree knew exactly what I needed without words.
Gradually, I began to notice it wasn’t just this one tree – it was all of them. The plants, the breeze, the birds – they formed a supportive presence I can hardly put into words. Something deep within me recognized that I was part of this greater whole, all of us held in our Creator’s loving embrace. I wasn’t alone; I had never been alone.
I found myself spending more time outdoors, hiking alone, simply being with nature. My meditation practice returned, deeper now, grounded in this new understanding. Later, at a retreat, my spiritual teacher led us in meditation among the trees, and I understood why nature had felt so healing – when we open our hearts fully to the present moment, we can feel our Creator’s love flowing through everything around us, connecting us all.
Depression, though once so overwhelming, gradually lifted. The combination of therapy helping me understand my mind’s patterns, and nature helping me open my heart, created a path toward healing. Now, finding peace is as simple as sitting on my balcony among my plants, watching the sky, listening to birds. In these quiet moments, with my heart open and present, happiness flows naturally – not for any particular reason, but simply because I can feel our Creator’s love in everything around me.
This lesson remains: we humans aren’t separate entities striving alone, but integral parts of a greater whole, all held in our Creator’s loving embrace. In nature’s presence, I found not just healing, but a way back to that endless love that had been there all along.
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