Just want to say first - Happy National Postcard Week! It starts today and I hope that my fellow postcard enthusiasts get many many postcards this week.
Often common everyday things can have deep meaning to someone without any real logic behind it. I am a very strange mix; I have a degree in math and science and can be very logical but the other side of me firmly believes in God and miracles. I also firmly believe that God did not create a boring orb for us to mundanely walk on but He created a mysterious planet for us, if we just start looking at things from different perspectives. Most of us have had many "odd" things happen some good and maybe some bad but they all come down to a simple fact that there are no logical explanations for them. I love a good mystery and think that maybe that has made it easier for me to hang in there when the times get rough vs other people who do give up. I want to know how the story ends and part of the fun of any mystery is to read a chapter and sit back and try to figure out what just happened.
Mourning Doves are a very common bird in most areas of the US and often like to be around people; this would be the logical side of my brain working. My mystery loving side doesn't care if that make sense I prefer this story: Growing up my Grandmother Lily had a passion for birds that she shared and nurtured it in me. I still absolutely love birds; from the sweet little sparrow to the crazy and loud California Blue Jay. Her favorite birds were Mourning Doves, she told me a lot about them and why she liked them. I was quite small when she died so I don't remember everything but that they represented peace and they are like people and mate for life.
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Over the years and several moves I have noticed that my Mourning Doves travel with me. It doesn't matter if it is an apartment with no yard or a town house with a yard they are there. In fact when I first moved to Fresno (the first time I have ever lived away from Wisconsin) there was a family that built a nest above our patio light. They laid eggs and I was able to watch their off-spring grow and eventually leave for their own future. Although they are common I have always felt that they show up right at moments when I need them.
When my Grandfather died this winter I was very crushed; I had not seen him for a long time and I couldn't go back to the Midwest for the funeral. On that day four Mourning Doves sat on the rail by my home and stayed their all day. I would like to believe it was my grandparents (all of them now passed on) there to comfort me and remind me that they are at peace.
Whenever I see the Mourning Doves I feel that they are my little angels; there to remind me that I am watched over, to comfort me and to remind me that my grandparents loved me. Maybe it's silly but then how do we know they are not? I know that if Grandma Lily had a chance to choose what form she came to visit me in, it would be her favorite bird, the Mourning Doves.
May you have a peaceful and blessed Sunday and don't stop looking for the mystery.
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