“ May you come to find comfort in and remember:
Cardinals appear when angels are near.
So go now, sit outside and drink your tea.
Keep a lookout for the little red bird —
It is there; your loved one will be.
”
The holidays were always a special time for my family. My mom and dad loved Christmas. My dad loved to decorate the tree, and my mom started collecting Department 56 Christmas Village pieces. Our favorite pastime, one I still do today, was to put up the Christmas village. We over-decorated, over-shopped, and over-celebrated every year.
Thirteen years ago, Mom suddenly passed away on December 18, forever changing Christmas memories for me. Previously fond memories tend to be dampened by the loss and overwhelming sadness of missing someone so much.
Mom and I were very close. I always knew that if I could be half the mother, my mom was to me, I would be a pretty great mom. She was strong, a no-nonsense nurse who grew up in the Bronx. She raised her daughters to be independent and resilient. The resilient part was always the piece I struggled with, especially when facing life without Mom. After she died, I experienced depression. I never was diagnosed, never sought treatment because I wasn't raised that way. Looking back, I wish I had. I showed up every day for work, for my family and looked the part of a happy mom and competent executive, but on the inside, my mind was dark, and my thoughts were brutal. Walking my dogs and prayer brought me some relief from the constant negative dialogue on autopilot going on in my head.
About a year after Mom passed, I went for a walk on the greenbelt near my house, desperate for relief from the overwhelming sadness clouding my head. I had enough. I was in the angry stage of grief and declared out loud, "God, I need a sign that Mom is still with me, watching over me. Just a little sign ." At that very moment, a little red cardinal flew out of the trees and sat on the ground beside me. He did not budge even though I was walking two big dogs. He just fluttered and stared at me as I stared back at him. From that day on, I knew that Mom was still watching over my family and me, and we had a special connection that would never die. It was a turning point, one that I will always remember.
Since then, cardinals appear in odd places, like shopping mall parking lots and college campuses, guiding decisions, providing comfort, and a sigh of relief in challenging life moments and decisions.
On a sweltering hot day in June in Bryan, Texas, a cardinal appeared under a tree as we exited the dorm tour during a college visit with my son. I said to my son, "you are going to go to Texas A & M, and it will be a fabulous experience for you." Worried about the admission process, he replied, "How do you know for sure?" I pointed to the cardinal all by his lonesome, sitting under the tree, responding, "That's how." He answered, “ You freak me out.” A few months later, he received his acceptance letter. He had a great college experience, blessed by his grandmother.
My career required me to spend most of the last seven years traveling. A career change, and COVID brought all of that to a screeching halt. I have spent more time at home in 2020 than I have in many years.
My home office desk faces the window where Mom and I planted an oleander shrub on Mother's day the year before she died. One chilly April morning, I heard fluttering and chirping in the shrub outside my window. The flurry of activity came from a cardinal nest hidden deep inside the oleander shrub. Every day I watched as the mother and father took turns guarding the nest. Three small baby cardinals came to life outside my window. I observed the doting cardinal parents feed the babies, carefully watching over them for two weeks. The father was never far away. He sat up in another tree a few feet away and guarded his family. And just as fast as they came, one morning in May, they were gone. The nest is still there, easily visible now, but the little family is gone. I can only hope the babies bring comfort and joy to others looking for a sign of inspiration and connection.
This year, so many people are alone, especially the elderly. My dad lives in an assisted living facility, and we cannot see him this year. He has survived COVID and Thanksgiving in isolation. Hopefully, this little cardinal story will bring him some joy and comfort.
Life can be remarkable, challenging and difficult. The pandemic is a reminder of how fragile life can be. We have a choice every day to look for signs that bring us joy or focus on the turmoil and strife the mere act of living creates. If you look for signs of hope, they will appear, and they make life that much more beautiful and magical.
After all, we can all use a little magic this year.
Merry Christmas
May those who have lost loved ones receive signs of comfort and connection.
“Choose to look for signs of hope, they will appear, and they make life that much for beautiful . ”
