My Mom stayed for another week after we took Philip to live with Sam, and we put in a whole new front garden. It was intentionally timed to be a productive distraction for me, and it did give me something new to build and to nurture. But now it was two or three weeks down the road and I was adjusting to life without Philip. Predictably, I had mixed feelings about it, but my vacuum cleaner threw a party.
One afternoon I was doing dishes and looked out the kitchen window to see a male Cardinal that had landed on my bird feeder. I have feeders in the front and back, and there is hardly a window in the house where you can’t see one or the other. I stopped for a minute and just enjoyed watching him. As I did, a familiar joy filled my heart and I heard these words “you know; you still are a bird lady”.
With those words came a flood of emotions, as I suddenly realized what I was doing to myself. In the midst of the decision making process with Philip, I wrestled with a sense of failure. And since he had been one of the big investments in the birdy part of my design, I felt like something left when he did. I daresay he did take a piece of my heart with him, but not my design. That was still intact.
I was still a bird lady.
For many years now, I have recognized the importance of identifying the good of our experiences and allowing that good to carry through into the present, instead of shutting the door on the memories and emotions. I care about it so much that I wrote a book on it. But this was a new angle on the topic. It wasn’t a traumatic experience where I needed to find the value in the midst of the pain and accept its role in the whole of my life.
What I saw is how we create emotional attachments to facets of our identity, and those attachments are associated with someone or something. Philip was associated with the birdy part of my design. When the environment changes – when someone leaves or dies or the event ends – we set aside the identity because of the attachment we created. I will probably never interact with birds now without having Philip in the back of my mind. But that doesn’t mean that my design for birds has been damaged or lost. It is a matter of how I chose to process it. Will I forfeit that element of my design or calling in order to avoid the pain? Or will I bury the emotions and pretend they don’t exist so that they can pop up at the most inopportune time? Or, will I intentionally face the emotions, process the journey, and embrace the continuity of design?
I have made an attempt at doing the third. To face the emotions, to process the journey, and to embrace AND celebrate the continuity of design. That is what these blogs have been about. My process. Letting the emotions flow. I cried when I wrote most of them. Celebrating and savoring the good of the journey, what I learned, what I gained, and how I changed in the midst of it. I have been looking for ways in which God unpacked my design, and the fact that it is an existing treasure, ready to be used.
God and I still meet often on the playing field of birds. I was recently at a friend’s house who lives on a farm with acres of woods behind them. We were walking on her property when I heard what I thought was a Pileated Woodpecker in the tree nearby. Without even thinking, I (kinda rudely) stopped in the middle of our conversation and bounded off to see if it really was. As he flew off, I waved and gave him my greeting, and my whole insides were grinning from the God hug.
I am still a bird lady.
My season with Philip has ended, but it is the end of one and the beginning of the next, because I am still the same person God designed from the foundation of the earth. In the new season, I don’t have a parrot, but He will find new and different ways to continue the growth. I know there is a calling to nature, and God knows exactly how to position me to develop it. Our lives are a continuum, with the threads of essence, calling, and the faithful parenting of God running through every season. May you recognize and celebrate every treasure that has come from one end into the next beginning of your life.
Thank you for walking this part of the path with me.
rimoftheworld7.com 
What happens to us is not nearly as significant as how we process it.
Sounds like you did an amazing job.
And THAT, dear friends, is what it looks like to transition with dignity, grace, and wisdom!!!
Way to rock it, Megan!! You are more beautiful now for having crossed over!
I’m throwing a bitter-sweet party for you as only a midwife can……..
Thank you, Rebekah. I can imagine you can relate!
Such beautiful insight into God’s heart. Thank you for sharing. This speaks so deeply. Also, this (& a number of your pieces) has given me a bit of a eureka moment, this time regarding grief…how we can inadvertently cut off parts of ourselves – but that was never our place, our responsibility, to do so.
Glad to hear that it was transformational for you!
Great fearless series Megan. Very contemplative and enjoyable for me at the same time.
With a little-girl love of happy-ever-after stories, I’d envisioned you and Philip together forever…
Yet as I read about Sam-and-Philip … a huge something happened in me! I’d hidden in the fairytales as my safe place… and now I see that, while the emotions wrapped around different memories are legitimate, they are being acknowleged rightly (Thanks for the beauty of wisdom in your book, Megan!) and I can smile that, as for me, I can look at my design and see that God has his pathways for me to follow!
Yes, Arthur, it is how we process it that counts!
On a journey!
Big deep breath, with a leaky smile!
Joining with Rebekah in that bitter-sweet party for you as only a Nana can…
Yes, Joan, I can so relate to the “happy ever after” perspective. In fact, that is something I have been examining in my own life, as a result of this and some other things I am pondering. Glad to hear that this process has helped you process yours! :D)
Such a beautiful way you processed this! I love the way you write & share.
Thank you for your vunerability and your processing. I love you are still a bird lady, totally intact. This triggered memories of the design in one of my daughters that I had seen when she was little. Called and shared with her. we had a wonderful God-wink, mom and daughter moment.
Thanks
Ruthie, I love that the story inspired you to connect with your daughter regarding a point of design. Special!
Beautiful.
It is quite profound how deeply our processing affects us. It is so much easier to blame people and circumstances, instead of continuing to embrace the fullness of our design in the midst of pain or discomfort – or when it leads to a “dead end”.
Your blogs – especially this one – have inspired deeper thought and contemplation of a few “beginnings and endings” in my life.
You managed to poke a hole right through to something I thought I preferred to keep only partly engaged…
But maybe, just maybe, I would actually like to welcome it back in it’s “full glory”. 🙂
“I am still a bird lady.” Stunningly beautiful words…
Adelene, you are right that our response is so important. I am delighted that the blog has inspired you to look at some things that you could welcome back. Yay!
Dear Megan, thank you for sharing this transition. I read this to my daughter and we laughed and felt your joy amd sadness and couldn’t stop reading. I cried for your and Father God’s unconditional love and care for one of His beautiful birds… Especially when you had to let him go and Fatjer already went ahead to provide for Philip.
It brings to mind that scripture in Matt 6:26…look at the birds of the air… How He cares for them and are you not worth much more than they. I so love how Father unpacks our design in very specific ways and cares so deeply.
What was also special is that He sees the things that seems insignificant to other people in us. 😢
My daughter is inspired to speak non-verbally with her pet rabbits now. So she is already going to implement a few of the things you shared. 😁
Thank you for sharing, Franzelle! I am delighted that you felt engaged with the story. And yes, you are so right about the things that He sees that other people think insignificant, or maybe don’t even like. Would love to hear how it goes with your daughter and her rabbits. :D)