A bit of blue caught my eye as I walked past the living room window this morning.
My beloved bluebird.
Always stopping me in my tracks.
But it was his companion sitting beside him that stunned me. Stark white. Soft. Round. Almost impossibly cute. Not a dove. Are albino bluebirds a thing? I wondered.
I stood in awe at the contrast. One so familiar, the other so extraordinarily different. They sat together, looking at one another, then toward me. A deep peace filled me. Hope rose too. I wasn't really sure why, but I recognize a sacred moment when it arrives.
Perhaps it had something to do with the season I'm in. Preparing to leave a place I've grown to love. A place where life didn't unfold quite as I'd imagined.
I thought I'd be planting a garden here. Building a home. My spirit fell in love with this little town. So much so that I'm afraid to leave it. And for a while, I thought I needed to stay until I'd planted that garden.
But the garden I imagined never took shape. Instead, I found myself sitting, once again, in some very dark places. Grief. Disappointment. Loneliness. Things I could not outrun. Things I thought I had overcome. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't comfortable. And there were times it felt terribly cold.
But isn't that where a seed begins? Buried beneath the soil, surrounded by darkness, long before the tender shoot breaks through the surface?
In all that darkness, I came to understand something more about God's presence. I didn't always feel Him near. But I knew He was there.
I've also been learning something about choices. For a long time, I've been so afraid of making the wrong ones that I've sometimes struggled to make them at all. Waiting for circumstances to change rather than trusting myself to take the next step.
But choice is a gift. One I haven't always allowed myself to open.
I'm choosing to return to Carlsbad. Closer to the people I love. Not because I've stopped loving this place, but because I've realized I can love two places and still choose where I want to be.
I thought I came here to bloom. Instead, I was being planted. And I've realized that just because I can't see the flowers doesn't mean something beautiful isn't growing. The garden will grow within me, whether I am here or there.
Looking at those two beautiful birds, I stood in the stillness, and I knew.
I know that sometimes we come to a place for reasons we don't fully understand until it's time to leave. I know that I can sit in the discomfort of grief and still experience the beauty of life. I know that disappointment does not have to lead to despair.
I know that I am deeply loved and capable of giving the same. And I know that what I've learned here will go with me.
I slowly lifted my camera, hoping to capture the beauty in front of me. Moments later, they flew away.
I quickly Googled whether white bluebirds exist. Turns out they do, and they're exceptionally rare. I don't know if that little white bird was one of them. I'd like to think it was.
But I know what remained after they were gone.
Peace. Hope. Wonder.
