They come to the feeder every day – at least a pair, usually more. For the cost and effort of putting seed in the feeder and scattering bread crusts on the ground, grace and beauty on the wing is made manifest just outside my window. Every season, in all kinds of weather, they come.
It’s said that cardinals are the spirits of those who have left this life returning in a different form. It’s also said that they signal death, the presence of the Spirit, and imminent change. Any, all, or none of these things could be true. I can’t say. What I do know: beauty and grace are local where I live and breathe just as surely as they are resident in exotic, far away places.
Gracious God, give me an eye to see the beauty you offer, and a spirit to be profoundly grateful for it. Amen.
