November 18, 2020
The Feather
Write, therefore, what you have seen . . .
Revelations 1:19a NIV
We stuck a for-sale sign in our yard and headed for the beach in August 2015. This would be our last big adventure. Eighteen months after my husband, Ray, was diagnosed with a terminal lung disease we moved from Colorado to coastal North Carolina. The beach had always called my name. And Ray could breathe better at sea level.
Two weeks after we arrived Ray died.
Six weeks later, I filled a thermos with two cups of morning coffee, then grabbed my beach chair, journal, devotional, and pen. Tossing them in the car, I backed out of the garage for the six-minute drive through beachside neighborhoods and tourist shops, across the bridge to Topsail Island, and pulled into the public parking lot.
Warm wind whipped my hair as I shed flip-flops and pitched them into the car. Gathering my gear, I stepped onto coarse gravel, and gingerly hobbled to the beach access ramp.
Cresting the dune, I stopped. It took my breath away, this ocean beauty. A palette of blues and grays tumbling, continually shifting to rearrange themselves in this living masterpiece where ocean melts into horizon and reflects sky’s changing mood. Here, deep speaks to deep. Creator to created. The Comforter’s voice to my sad but healing heart. It calmed me, untangled the cords that imprisoned grief, and offered new perspective.
The moon’s gravitational pull had drained the ocean to low tide, making long my walk to lapping waves on the nearly deserted beach. I unfolded my chair and eased into its low-slung embrace. Warmed by the sun, yet grateful for the gentle breeze that tempered its heat on that cloudless morning, I savored unhurried time.
As spent, foamy waves scurried up the sand, I took a slow pull of coffee. Opening my devotional, I read these words of Matthew 11:28-29 from The Message: “Get away with me and you’ll recover your life . . . Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.”
Looking out over calm waters I watched a lone gull soar on invisible currents: flying solo.
“I want to recover your life.”
Moved by this bird gliding effortlessly above the water, I pondered those words as I prayed about my repurposed life and asked God for guidance.
Just then, a small, gray and white feather fluttered and came to rest at the foot of my chair. Intrigued, I watched as another wisp of air lifted and carried it a few feet down the beach, where again it landed on flat, wet sand. Playful and inviting, it beckoned.
I unwrapped myself from chair’s embrace to follow the feather down the beach as it toppled ahead, born by the rhythm of the breeze: lifting with each flurry, then floating to the ground
when creation inhaled.
“Follow me.”
And so, I did. Until finally I stooped to pick it up.
Smiling, I walked back to my chair and tucked the feather between the pages of my devotional. It has become a reminder to me of God’s presence and faithfulness.
That morning I began to pick up the corner of the universe that contained our story knowing it was mine to figure out, both looking back and peering forward into this unscripted season rising from the ashes of “we” into an amputated “me.” As I lingered on the beach, God continued to whisper his invitation to me.
“I want to recover your life . . . follow me.”
Since then, I have followed Jesus into grief and discovered the presence of God. I followed when he said, “be still,” and let him rearrange the landscape of my heart. I followed him home to Colorado.
And I have followed him here—to write about what I’ve seen and to inspire hope for the journey.
Sometimes we need a tangible reminder of God’s presence in our lives.
Mine is a feather . . . what’s yours?
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6 replies on “The Feather”
Excellent read, Paula. God is so tender with His children, showing us as well as telling us in His Word how much He loves us and cares what’s happening in our lives. My tangible reminder is too long to explain here, but every time I see a specific time displayed, 11:11, I’m reminded and encouraged to stay the course of what He’s called me to with Living Real Magazine: Real life. Real faith. Real People. May God bless your writing and obedience to His call on your life. ~ Melanie
Thank you, Melanie. My jaw dropped when I read your 11:11 reminder. That was a significant time display for Ray and I throughout the years, and I can’t see it without smiling and thinking “gotcha last!” Thank you for sharing this.
Paula, your writing is superb, filled with creativity and life on every level. I could feel the beach environment as you so aptly described it. And, when you shared how God spoke to you that day through the feather, my heart was deeply touched. What has God given to me like this? He gave me a word and a phrase. The word=jewel. The phrase=on the day you were born. Being an avid Bible student, I rushed home to look in my hefty concordance. Ez. 16: 4-7 says: “On the day you were born, you were thrown out into an open field, unwanted. But I came by and saw you lying there….and I said, ‘Live, thrive, like a jewel among jewels.'”
These verses were straight from the only One who could see my life accurately and write my story. I can still remember where I was sitting on the floor with the concordance draped over my crossed legs. I’ve never been the same. My non-existent self-worth disappeared that day and my love for the Giver of Life, showed me that my life was no mistake-that I am His.
I love you, Paula, and Miss you. Want to meet in CO this January? Family ski trip.
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Hi Sherrie. Ohhh, how your comment has blessed me! One of my deep desires in writing this memoir is that it will be a vehicle for others to find God so richly embedded in their own story. I got goose bumps reading your account of the word and phrase God used to so richly transform your life. Thank you! And yes, I’d love to get together in January when you’re in Colorado for a ski trip. On another note, we are still trying to work out glitches with the feedback and comment mechanism on this blog. Although I knew from an email I received that you had commented, I was now only able to see it. Thank you my friend. I look forward to reconnecting soon!
A friend from Bible study introduced me to you as we have a similar story. My husband and I decided to try snow birding , bought a second home in Arizona. We arrived Nov 12, Nov 14 he felt ill and Dec 5 he passed from Covid. I’m still numb, still trying to understand it all and fearful of future. You see we had been together since I was 15. He provided for, cared for and loved and protected me always.
I feel everyone’s prayers lifting me up during this raw time but my thoughts and worries are sometimes crushing.
I look forward to reading your inspiring words
Thank you, Cheryl for joining the conversation, and for sharing a piece of your story. I am deeply sorry for your loss. Although we haven’t met yet in person, I have been praying for you since I learned of your tragic story through the church prayer chain. I’d be honored to listen when you need to talk. Please email me privately if you’d like to visit, or if there’s any other way I can support you at this stage of your incredible loss. I’m praying.