The Hummingbird

This morning, I went for a walk.

I try to do as much walking and running on my summer vacation as I can, this morning being no exception. I was in a hurry, however. I needed to be back in time to shower before the four-hour window for a delivery opened up, and the secondary purpose of my walk was to stop at a nearby grocery store for a couple of small items.

Walking and running both help my anxiety (as does Lexapro, let's be real here). The endorphins get pumping and it's harder for me to feel anxious...but these days, I'm in a constant state of anxiety or near-anxiety.

My mom has cancer. That's been well-documented. We are fighting--she is fighting--and we have hope, always. But the fact remains, she is ill. She's been in the hospital for almost three weeks as they sort out some of this, some of that, to get her ready for immunotherapy. It is stressful for her, it is stressful for Dad, it is stressful for me.

We want her home.

So my walk this morning was a mix of feeling good, but also worrying--can she come home today or tomorrow as we have been hoping? Will they finally let her be home where she is happiest and most comfortable?

As I walked, and thought about Mom, a motion came into my vision--a tiny bird. A hummingbird. But this one, smaller than most I see at my feeder.

A baby hummingbird, perhaps just out of the nest for the first time, darting uncertainly through the air above the street. It dashed to and fro, in short bursts, then hovered and looked around. It landed on a branch of a nearby tree as I stopped in my tracks and stared at it. It was so tiny, so new. I watched it for a few minutes, a huge smile on my face.

Turns out, many Native Americans see hummingbirds as "healers and bringers of love, good luck and joy." When Henrietta nested in Mom's yard, we were told this was a sign of good luck.

Maybe...and maybe it's all just nonsense.

But something about that tiny hummingbird this morning brought me a moment of great joy. A reminder, perhaps, that my family can face down whatever is coming to us with dignity, with grace, and with great love.

We still have our Fightin' Pants on. They're not going anywhere.