Breathe Again

I was sitting in my living room when I heard a loud thud. It came from the general direction of the exterior wall. This wall shoots up 20ft and is mostly windows. It’s a lovely, energy-inefficient space that lets in all the outdoor scenery (and temperature). I have a massive oak tree just outside these windows and it’s tenants provide year-round entertainment for my dog and a welcomed distraction for me when I need a break from emails and spreadsheets.

Hawks, vultures, squirrels, raccoons, finches, crows, cardinals… even a family of tree-dwelling ducks!

You just never know what you’ll find when you gaze out these old windows.

On this particular day, I was sitting with my friend; trying to explain how my once happy marriage had turned into a heartbreaking divorce. The aforementioned thud abruptly stopped our conversation. Neither of us were sure what we just heard.

I got up to examine what could’ve made the startling noise. At first I didn’t see her. I was too busy looking eye-level. Then my eyes scanned a bit higher.

That’s when I saw the proof of the thud right there on the glass: the perfect outline of 1 wing, a tiny bird body, a tail, and the profile of a head. You could literally see the individual feather marks on the glass.

My eyes fell to the patio floor, but before they got there I knew what I was about to see.

There, on the ground, was a cardinal. She wasn’t moving and didn’t appear to be breathing. I was pretty sure she was dead… or at the very least dying.

I hated it, but I wasn’t surprised. These dang windows have fooled a lot of birds over the years. I watched her for a few moments, but nothing changed so I went back to my conversation and decided I’d address the dead bird after my friend left.

We finished up our visit and when she got up to leave I looked out the windows and realized the cardinal was moving and on her feet! I was thrilled to see her breathing and standing on her own. Nothing appeared broken. And soon, she was able to safely fly away.

I thought about my little cardinal friend a lot in the following weeks and how much I had in common with her. I thought about how she must’ve never seen that glass coming. How she must’ve been so confused when she hit it. How much it must’ve hurt.

I honestly was convinced she was dead. I wonder if she thought she was dying, too? I wonder if she also felt like she’d never take another breath.

Getting the life knocked out of you is such a primal experience. There’s literally nothing you can do but wait for your brain and your lungs to cooperate with each other again. All the while, your brain says, “Are we dead? Is this how it ends? I’m pretty sure we’re dead.”

For years I was so happy. And oblivious. And in love. But not long ago, I too, found myself suddenly lying lifeless on the floor. My life felt completely over. As much as I hate to admit it... it still does some days. I’m not “over” or “past” this hurt.

However, I can’t let my brain trick me into thinking I’ll never breathe again. Yes, I still feel so fragile. But isn’t that exactly when God works His best is in our weakness?

Like my feathered friend, I’m slowly taking inventory of my faculties. I’m getting back on my feet. I’m discovering that my legs can bear some weight.

And while I’m taking these steps I still wonder about the little cardinal that took an extraordinary hit. I wonder if she felt confused by the way the window betrayed her and how unfair it was to not be able to fly where she planned on flying. I wonder if she, too, feels strangely exposed by the way she left her distinct mark on the glass for all to see. I wonder how long it took her to feel “normal” again.

As each day passes, I’m less convinced I’m dying. I know this sounds dramatic, but it’s an honest account of my thoughts and emotions. I keep reminding myself that if I let this be the death of me: then God was never on the throne of my heart. If I let a boy take me out: then my life doesn’t fully belong to Christ. I know this, too, sounds dramatic. But we are talking about living and not dying. God is who brings life. And I refuse to keep entertaining death when I have so much more life to live.

So…

If you’ve ever been convinced you’ll never breathe again…

If you’ve ever come close to being taken out by something you never saw coming…

Me too.

But now it’s time to tell those lungs to breathe again. That first breath might not come when you want it to, but God promises to deliver it on time. You will breathe again. Then, you’ll stand on your own. And after some time, you and I will figure out this whole flying thing.

We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves. We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed.

2 Corinthians 4:7-9