The Cardinal Comes Calling

A Message of Hope

Photo by Kim McKinney

I was babysitting for my great-nephew, a one-year-old dynamo. We were having a great time together, and it was a peaceful day. Snow started gently falling. You knew it would not stay — the temperature was too warm. But it was beautiful, big flakes.

I found myself looking out of the window. In the tree in front of me was one cardinal, then two, then three. I watched them for about an hour.

I’ve always heard that cardinals are messengers from those who you loved and lost to death, bringing you the message that everything will be alright.

The past year has been one of weariness and sadness for me.

I’ve been out of work for over a year. I’ve filled out hundreds of job applications and had numerous interviews. I still don’t have a job. Will I ever find a job? How much longer will it take? I never expected to be out of work this long. Will I be able to find a job close by, or will I have to move? How much longer can I hold out financially? There are so many unanswered questions.

My nephew’s wife had just suffered a miscarriage.

My mom seems to have dementia that some days appears to be escalating quickly.

My brother-in-law has had one health problem after another — cancer, kidney stones, a major heart arrhythmia. That’s just during the last year.

An aunt and an uncle, married for 66 years, died six months apart. My cousins became orphans quickly. Yes, they’re adults, but their parents had big personalities and had seemed exceptionally healthy. It’s a hole in all of our lives.

I’ve mostly been at peace through all of this, but sometimes the restlessness starts to set in. The confusion. What do I do next? What haven’t I tried or what needs to be tweaked and tried again? How do I offer comfort to those I love when I have so much I am personally trying to process?

But those cardinals. They remind me of the people we have lost. Their love of us, their ongoing encouragement, their love of life. They tell me that this is life, this cycle of life and death, and unemployment and unemployment, and sickness and health. They remind me of my wealth. Not in material things, but in the important things. Those are the things that have become part of my soul.

As I am writing, I looked out of my window, and this is what I saw.