How do we deal with disappointment? When life doesn't go the way we planned due to circumstances out of our control? From the time Eric left McNeese University late last July, he couldn't wait to get back to the Governor's Program again this summer. Andrew and I would have been in Pennsylvania this week. Andrew looked forward to spending a week at Camp Crestfield and visiting with family and friends around Pittsburgh. And I had planned to attend St. David's Christian Writers' Conference. This annual conference at Grove City College starts this afternoon. I can imagine the conferees spilling into Mary Anderson Pew South Hall, finding the registration table, greeting old friends with hi's and hugs, lugging bags up the winding staircase, and settling into their dorm rooms. They're anticipating a week of honing craft, networking, and enjoying the camraderie of fellow writers.
And we're not there.
So we're making other plans. I've been trying to make this summer as fun, interesting, and exciting as I can, to compensate the change in original plans. We're attending free concerts in the park, watching movies, taking a few classes, checking out art galleries, visiting with friends. Of course, we go to PT/OT. And eat at Sonic. We have two vacations planned. One, to a multicultural conference at Mo Ranch in the Texas hill country with our church, First Presbyterian of Lake Charles. And two, a trip to a beautiful cabin in the woods in Alabama near DeSoto State Park for a family reunion. We've never been to Alabama. Why Alabama? My sister Sue figured out it's pretty much exactly halfway between us, approximately a ten-hour drive from both directions.
Speaking of disappointing, this morning I awoke to the sound of Momma Mockingbird fussing like a madwoman about something, like maybe she was protectively trying to scare something away. Did a predator lurk nearby. I looked out the windows and didn't see any prowling cats or circling birds of prey. Though he still slept, I tiptoed into Eric's room to peek out his window at the nest. The babies were gone! Where did they go? Did a falcon, hawk, or owl swoop in and snatch them away when Momma wasn't looking? Did a raccoon or feline climb the tree, balancing on the thin branch out to the nest and knock the birds out, knowing they'd be easy targets on the ground? So I carried a ladder to the side of the house, climbed the rungs and peered into the nest. Abandoned. But I did find one baby bird quaking beside the house foundation. Was he a lone survivor? Or by chance, was it simply time for the birds to leave the nest and the other three flew away? I wouldn't think so, as it had only been two days since they hatched. But what do I know about nesting birds? I put gloves on and tried to pick the baby up. When he scurried out of my reach, it did appear one wing was possibly broken. I finally caught him, carried him up the ladder, and placed him back in the nest. Momma has been squawking at me all day. Is she thanking me, or scolding me because she thought they'd all left the nest, and now one is back?
Anyway, Eric's post-PT snack . . . an Auntie Ann's cinnamon sugar pretzel and a Sonic watermelon grape slush.
I love hummingbirds. I have a feeder on my backporch and I could watch them for hours, if I had that kind of time. Here's a little poem I wrote about them. Photos compliments of MDH.
Posts
