Although the date was different last year, the day was the same; mother’s day, the day when our hummingbirds returned. They arrived again this year only a few hours ago. I had washed out the feeders, mixed a fresh batch of sugar water and hung them outside our kitchen window only minutes before the first male came buzzing in. This is a thrill in our house. “The hummingbirds are back!” I shouted. Elihu began to dance and nearly cried in his joy. He also practically knocked me over to get up on the stool to see for himself. He found it difficult to eat dinner tonight, as preoccupied as he was with the tiny bird. Thankfully, in this final hour before dark the little fellow is making repeat trips to the feeder, and as Elihu chats with his father on the phone he is nose to the glass, watching.
If anything was ever said to be truly mind blowing, it would be the nearly two thousand-mile journey these tiny birds make each year to return to their summer homes. To see them again is to find one’s own hope and courage renewed. Amen.
The Hillhouse 