At just that moment, it returned its head back to center, lifted its beak and began to look around. It began blinking its eyes, and looked up at me - what an amazing moment, to be gazing eye-to-eye with this tiny little Being. Now that the crisis had passed, the restoration process simply required patience. I realized that I was being presented with a gift I've always wanted: to be able to really SEE one of these little birds close up, still, and unafraid of me. Its toes were like the finest little black wires you could imagine. Its beak opened and closed a few times; it was almost like watching a needle split itself in two, and the iridescent green on its back and purple on its throat was made up of a seemingly infinite number of the smallest feathers I've ever seen. Each feather had a perfectly discernable and distinct pattern, still more evidence of Divine Order and (at least to my eyes) Imagination at play.

I don't know, really, how much time passed. I walked over to one of the agave blossoms I know the hummingbirds like and offered it nourishment, but none was taken. At the next point of its recovery, it stood up and walked across my palm to perch itself on the side of my little finger. I couldn't even feel it walking, but once it gained its footing on my finger, I could feel that it again had Strength. There were a few flutters of its wings as it remained on my finger. It continued moving its head, looking around, getting its bearings, and every now and again turned up to look at me and allow me to watch its eyelids blink.

Jon and I regularly rescue lizards and bees from our pool, and one time he rescued a young rattlesnake who had surely taken a wrong turn on its path. We frequently comment that those creatures will go forth with a "tale to tell" as they continue on their journeys. As the hummingbird finally began fluttering its wings for what I knew would soon be its departure flight, I realized that it had given me quite a tale to tell. It took one last look around, began fluttering its wings, and took off, straight and true, across the pool, over the fence, and into a mesquite tree. And now of course, each time I see a hummingbird with a purple throat, I imagine it to be "my" little friend. The lesson? (well... you know since I'm a teacher there must be a lesson!)

• Listen
• Do what you can, gently
• Speak the Word for Life
• Be patient: Divine Order is always unfolding
• Appreciate the amazing gifts which are always available, even in your own back yard

And... if you ever have the opportunity to look into the eyes of a hummingbird, do so!