Little Red Bird
In memory of her grandmother, she started collecting anything with an image of a red cardinal on it.
Grandma Mamga had just passed away. I sat on her porch swing in the backyard that clear spring day, watching the birds bustle around her feeder.
Mamga loved birds, although bright red cardinals were her favorite. They reminded her of her own mother. For Mamga a cardinal was one of God's messengers of love. A kind of angel, you might say.
Sitting on her swing, I missed Mamga so deeply. Lord, please send me a cardinal so I will know she's home with you in heaven.
I watched and waited. A blue jay and some sparrows ate seeds from the feeder. I spotted something red on the fence—a red ceramic cardinal. I'd forgotten about it! Mamga must have put it there so she'd have an angel nearby when she needed one. Just like I needed one now.
From that afternoon on, I saw red cardinals everywhere: on note cards and kitchen towels and sweatshirts, in flower arrangements and books. Of course I collect them all, and Mamga's little red bird sits in a place of honor in our home. I'm surrounded by cardinals—and my grandmother's love from heaven.
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