The Miracle of Goldfinches - By Ruth Fischel

It was the second winter after my son, Bob, died.I was still measuring time by his death. First it wasfour days and then five, then it was a month and thentwo. Now, it was hard to believe that more than a yearhad passed.I was definitely getting better. Everything I didand thought during that first winter had somerelationship to Bob's death. In this, the second winter,I was able to broaden my life and return to my workon a somewhat regular basis again. On most days nowI could put in quite a few hours, as compared to thefirst winter after he died, when I could barely workat all.When I say that I didn't work, I mean that I didn'twork on anything that could pay the rent or put foodon the table. I am a writer and I couldn't write anythingthat could be published. But during that first winterdid I write and write and write. I wrote from such adeep place inside of me, so deep that I did not evenknow from where the pain or the words that describedthe pain were coming to me. Words were right there,flying from my finger tips. That writing was undisciplinedand disorganized, more of a purging that was necessaryfor my healing. While I knew much of it could be usedsome day to help people. I knew it had to wait.Being a self-employed author has some advantages.One was that I couldn't be fired from my job. Andsecondly I could take all the time I needed to heal fromthis terrible tragedy. The other side of the coin wasthat I wasn't paid when I didn't produce; and thatmade for a very difficult burden financially.During this second winter I had the gift of workingin a beautiful new office in my home. I installed twobird feeders, one hanging from a high branch outsideFrench doors, which could be seen from everywherebut my desk. The other feeder was plastic and hadsuction cups to keep it stuck to the window just a fewfeet forward and to the right of my computer.During this second winter, I developed a fascinationfor all the birds that came to visit my feeders, but Ifound the goldfinches especially fascinating. I spenthours watching them as they changed their colors overthe seasons. I had never seen anything like thisphenomena before. These observations became likemeditation for me, a deep concentration that blockedout all other thoughts. I would watch in awe, transfixedas these magnificent creatures paraded their shadingsbefore me, showing off one of God's masterpieces.At the end of the Summer, the goldfinches hadbeen a bright yellow, the only way that I had everknown goldfinches. But as Fall came they began toactually change. One day they were yellow andsuddenly, or so it appeared to me, the very next daysome were muddy and gray looking. Others weremuddy and greenish. Some were tan. They were allin the process of losing their bright color andbecoming less and less yellow. They continued to feedall that winter and I looked forward to their everydayvisits, shooing the bluebirds and the crows away fromthe other feeder that hung from the tree. I evenspent $10.95 for a shield so the squirrels couldn'treach the feeder on the tree and eat their food.I have learned that the change in their feathers isnature's way of protecting Goldfinches during the winter.When the leaves fall from the trees all birds lose theirhiding places. Now they had to sit out on bare branches,becoming very visible. If they remained bright yellow,they would be easy prey for larger birds. Their new,muted colors help them to blend in more with thebranches, tree trunks and ground cover.Gradually I became accustomed to the more quietlycolored beautiful creatures in their new winter attire.And just as suddenly as their feathers had changed infall, one day in March, a speck of yellow re-appeared.I hadn't expected it, although, if I had thought aboutit, I would have realized this would eventually happen.But, the yellow was returning in the strangest ofpatterns; some in squares and patches, others blendingand soft as if an artist had taken a paint brush andmade majestically beautiful strokes at random.We can call this miracle genetic memory or aninner computer, Mother Nature or a number ofother scientific terms. But it was nothing less thanan awesome miracle to me! The birds did not haveto do anything to make it happen other than to justbe birds. They merely needed to have enough foodand sleep and warmth, and follow their natural instincts.They simply did their bird thing and the rest followedquite naturally.As I continued to watch their daily visits, thisincredible miracle expanded as they continued theprocess of changing back to brilliant yellow again.During the process, some remained a bit muddylooking, some still more greenish gray or grayishgreen, some with more yellow than others. Theircolor returned in patches, all at different timesand in different places. Each goldfinch receivedthe gift of magnificent new spring clothes in theirown time, and in time for the mating season to begin.And here I was, working again fully into the joy ofmy writing, discovering more and more gifts everydaythat reconnected me to God and to the universe.How could I not possibly believe that if God couldmake these wonderful miracles, the Goldfinches,why not for me, in my shady and murky grayish- greenbrown tan, sometimes even black pain, returning meto the full and brilliant color of the sunshine again?How could I possibly not believe that I, too, couldand would return to the joy of living, in whatever wayor shape God programmed me.How could I possibly not believe that we are allpart of a higher plan, a greater purpose, and thatthis knowledge comes to us when we are ready, witheach passing season.All we have to do was be the best people we can be,get plenty of food and rest, and do God's work. Timeand nature would tell us when we were ready foranything more or less. We simply have to do our peoplething and the rest would follow quite naturally.4/5/95© Ruth Fishelwww.spirithaven.com