The Bird Flies Free - Winter
One who has been sexually abused hates dark houses, loves open windows, hates closed doors and the cold dark days of winter, loves spring and new growth. With the simple wonder of a child, I love my beautiful flower gardens, getting my hands in the dirt to plant tiny seeds, and watching green shoots come up. The more time I spend outdoors in summer, the better I feel.
Everything comes alive in my gardens. Baby robins try out their tiny wings for the first time, butterflies, emerge from cocoons and the bumblebees get nectar from my lavender iris.
In anticipation of spring 2002, I painted several birdhouses in bright greens, blues and reds. The birds nested in my forsythia bush, fed at the birdfeeders, drank from the hummingbird nectar and took baths in the birdbath. We woke up every morning to the chirping sounds of various kinds of birds.
Then when I had completed the first draft of this manuscript, my husband surprised me with a very unique birdhouse. Made out of copper and tin, it is round and has a pointed shingled tin roof, and has an open door.
He didn't realize the significance this gift had for me. When birds' feathers are clipped like the brightly colored parrots in a pet shop, they can't fly.
As I complete this manuscript, I give praise to God my Father. This child is now free to fly . . . . at last!
Prison Doors Open
Set me free from my prison, that I may praise your name. . . . . Psalm 142:7
Called to Serve Others
But he knows the way that I take: when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold. . . . . . . Job 23:10