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Writer's picturePenni Elaine

Reach Out Your Hand

Shes gorgeous. She took my breath away.

She has to have a 3 foot wingspan. Fully mature, she flies as though the wind is nothing more than her servant. She tucks her wings, drops to the water in a frightening line, falling exponentially faster than she was flying. If I didn't know her I would swear she was committing dive-bomb suicide.


But she is too smart for that. Suicide lets the elements win. She would never. She is a survivor and she is made to thirive.


So are you.


She suddenly throws her wings out, swishes them in a sudden breaking motion, throws her talons forward, and BAM. She grabbs her prey and heads back up, up, up. She never looks back. She has eyas to feed and no time for more grandiosity. Disappearing over the lofty pines, I know she is headed to a nest I could never climb high enough to find.


I let myself slowly release another astonished breath. Seeing her always leaves me in wonder. How could she seem so peaceful and in control of herself? She is a wild bird. Here are no feeders here in the high country. There are no aviaries, and no guarantees that an eagle or a great owl will not take offense and make her dinner. Yet, she has it together. She is focused and determined. She has a life to live and she intends to live it as fully as it is meant to be lived.


She knows a secret we might want to hear. Life holds no promises. We are not guaranteed any feeders or easy sheltered spaces. Sometimes, life is beautiful and we are able to fly and hunt and all goes well. Sometimes, it's not, and our hearts and lives nearly drown as we fall, headlong, into the deep pool of ugly pain.


But there is one thing she does not understand.


People have an ability to recover. We can come up through the black water and crawl to the side of the pond. Hearts heavy and pounding, we can reach out for a hand to help us up. We can let our wings be wrapped and our hearts gently lifted until we are strong enough to try to fly again. It's possible. It's probable. But we have to want it enough reach out for it.


For the wounded, fallen and broken hearted, we stand by the water of pain with outstretched arms.


We have help for the hurting.


Give us your hand.




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