The garage door opens, “Mom, hurry! Come here!”
“What’s wrong?” I wipe my hands dry with a kitchen towel.
My husband opens the door. “Shelli, hurry, it’s a hummingbird.”
What? I’ve bought two hummingbird feeders, and the only thing I’ve seen feeding from them are grasshoppers, the size of hummingbirds.
My daughter slips under my husband’s arm, and she’s cupping the tiny thing in her hand. She’s really holding a hummingbird.
“Let me grab the camera.” I run like lightning for the camera and return, opening the garage door. The tiny thing is sitting so contentedly in the palm of my daughter’s hand. Maybe it’s too frightened to move. I take a picture here, a picture there. “What happened?” I ask.
My daughter tells me that while her best bud was leaving through the garage, the bird hit the fluorescent light. She shut off the light. Her friend saw it land on the shelf and took it down. “Its little wings were spread apart, so I placed it in my hand and folded its wings back into place.” She smiles.
“It was probably confused by the light,” my husband says. “How many people can say they’ve held a hummingbird?”
I marvel at that for a minute.
“Okay, let’s let it go,” says my husband.
I run into the kitchen to put down my camera. I fly back out the garage door, past the car, and make my way to the darkened sky, to where my family is gathered.
“I opened my hand, and it flew away,” says my daughter, smiling. “It was so soft.”
“It was so soft,” declares my other daughter.
“It flew strong,” everyone says.
“I heard a thud,” someone says.
“No, that was a crow, Mom,” daughter says, possibly rolling her eyes. “It flew strong. I just barely opened my fingers and it took off.”
Why did I put away the camera? I could have video-taped the moment. I could have left the camera on the car or put it around my neck. I stand there in confusion, a finger touching my temple. I wonder how, in the midst of everything, I missed nearly everything. And the fog clears …
I had hovered right over it, and yet, I didn’t feel it. I missed the softness. I could have touched a real, live hummingbird.
I was so close, and yet, I didn’t see it fly strongly.
I love taking photographs, capturing our lives. I enjoy seeing the world through a camera lens, but nothing can replace the real thing, real life, the real moments in time seen through our eyes. Sometimes we can get a bit confused, get lost in technicalities, get distracted, and head toward the wrong light.
Sometimes we need a hummingbird moment for a little redirection.
(And right here is where a video could have been inserted. Ha! But notice the 2 grasshoppers on the door in the picture above)
The morning after, I plop down on my daughter’s bed and laugh at her puzzled expression. “Tell me about the hummingbird.”
“Mom, you seriously sound just like Pockets from Hatari! …” She laughs (That’s a John Wayne movie we’ve seen a thousand times).
“But I missed everything. I didn’t feel it’s softness. I didn’t see it fly strongly.”
She snuggles up to me. “It’s okay, Mom. I barely saw it.”
“It was fast, wasn’t it?”
“You opened the garage door and told me to hurry,” I say …
And we relive the story together once again.
Do you have a hummingbird moment you’d care to share about? A moment where you needed a little redirection.