Yesterday I almost hit a great blue heron on the way to soccer practice (yes, fully a soccer mom). We were driving on the backroads, tall cornfields on both sides. It was a route we didn’t take usually, GPS just decided this was the way to go. It was a bit more hilly than I was used to. Anyways, the music is playing, kids are singing, we go over a hill and there’s a great blue heron just STANDING IN THE ROAD. I was shook. We were going about 57 mph, and I eased the car to a stop without slamming on the breaks…I was doing my best to protect us and the bird.
Upon us getting closer to the bird, it slowly spread its’ wings and began to lift off of the ground. At this point, we fully stopped…luckily these aren’t busy roads. The long legs of the heron trailed behind, almost grazing the windshield of my car.
I was, and still am, amazed.
The heron is not the lion, as pictured in the Strength card. The heron exhibits a different kind of strength. This draws back to my last entry, where I said I think strength and patience are perhaps sisters. Or at least cousins. The Strength of this creature isn’t as upfront, in-your-face…but it’s there.
The great blue heron stands still in water, its long legs granting it the ability to do so, and watches for fish. When you think of the heron, this might be the image that comes to mind. A hunter that stands…still, patient, alone…waiting for the perfect moment.
There is a strength in how the great blue heron lives in the world. They come together for breeding season, and often nest in colonies. They provide care for young nestlings together. Once this vital part of their life cycle is done for the year, they often head out alone.
This feels oddly similar to where I find myself at the moment. Both of my children off to a full day of school Monday through Friday. I spent a long time waiting for this moment (yes, not afraid to admit that a full day of me-time was, and is, tempting). That said, it feels as though I am wading into new territory. I often found myself limited by time and resources.
Now I get to find the perfect moments throughout my day for creation, for making, for sharing. I am leaving the colony of nests to survive on my own for a while (not literally, as I am quite happily married and the kids are still home everyday). With patience, ease and hopefully grace I can slowly make my way across this threshold of change. I can gently tend to what needs attention. I can put down my phone and pick up the paintbrush. I can work on the projects that seemed too daunting. I can do all of these things, and know that there is always an imminent return home. There is exhilarating fear and excitement in this…and there is Strength in getting still, just like the great blue heron, to listen for what’s coming.
Starmoth Press 