The bird flew some distance from my path, but I identified that robin with its unique markings immediately. That little creature had no idea the memories it heaped upon me. I stood still – watching it watch me as my mind carried me to years past. 

Robins had always meant the advent of spring for me. When the robins appeared, winter’s clutch was about to let go — or at least that’s what the first sign of robins meant to me. New life and vibrant, refreshed landscapes were approaching. Longer days for being outdoors and clearing away winter’s refuse were on the horizon. Robins were a welcomed sight!

It was a gray day during Mother’s confinement to her “rehab” room after her stroke that I was in great need of encouragement and hope. She was miserable due to her stroke leaving her immobile, and I was dismayed that I had no control over how to make her conditions any bet-ter.  

She had always been an “at home” mother and made caring for her family her priority. When I thought of home, I always thought of my parents, but especially of Mother. That was home-base for her. That was her domain, and she maintained it with love and care.

Now the two of us were displaced and coping with circumstances we couldn’t control or fix. It was one of those kind of mornings when I had sat with her at breakfast, watching her try to eat while trying to pry loose of the “sleeping” drugs the nurse had given her the night before. We had gotten back to her room, and her gentle, kind aid had gotten her back in her bed. The sleep she had been fighting won back its position as she quickly drifted off to sleep again.

I stood at the window that looked out to a brown lawn and croppings of despair. The enemy was in full assault as I began praying. My attitude was out of synch for a Christian, and I cried out to God for help. Mother needed Him, but so did I.

Within moments I looked up at the commotion outside her window and saw that dead, lifeless lawn fill with robins. They landed all over the area outside her window. I wasn’t seeing things — I was seeing dozens of robins covering the ground. They weren’t a vision — they were real and weren’t in a hurry to fly off.

I began crying again, but these weren’t sad, hopeless tears. They were grateful, rejuvenating tears that were expressions of praise for my compassionate Father. A single robin would have been an encouraging sign to me — a sign reminding me of new life and better days, but my Father had sent abundant encouragement. 

My first response was to wake Mother and tilt her bed so she could see this miracle Spring announcement, but her sleep was restful. I was confident that our Father was blessing her with sweet dreams of the past as He had blessed me with new hope for the future.

Letters to Camille Anding may be sent to P.O. Box 551, Brookhaven, MS 39602.