The Egret in My Garden
When you’re sick and you have no energy—or desire—to move, you stare into space.
I was sick all right but I didn’t stare into space. This egret kept my fevered eyes transfixed for, oh, maybe a few hours for three straight days . . .
Instead of staying in the bedroom cooled by a humming air conditioner, I decided to stay in the veranda cooled by whistling, and sometimes cooing, fresh wind—and marvel at this man-made egret.
Sometimes it spun around quickly, sometimes it swiveled from side to side, and sometimes it just turned slowly with the tempo of the wind. This graceful bird was hand-carried by my sister Aie all the way from Germany. She said it is no ordinary bird. It was painstakingly made by people with Down Syndrome.
As I stared at this simple representation of creation, I Imagined how it must have been so slowly drawn, cut, planed, smoothened, and painted by bare, unprofessional hands. And how it magically landed in my garden.
It’s like getting sick and getting well, I thought. It takes time to get to the promise of the ending we hope for. Each critical, small step has to be fueled by grace.