It was ironic. I had just stepped out of my door to the sound of a cardinal singing. There he was, a splash of red against the bare branches and grey sky. I whispered a quick prayer of thanks for a newly appreciated source of beauty, and hopped into my car to head to work.

 

About 100 feet down the road, I passed it and hit the brakes. A splash of red against the yellow line — a cardinal, dazed and wide-eyed, with feathers in the road. He didn’t look hurt, just stunned. I had to stop, and my passengers willingly agreed. Someone has told me that a cardinal is a symbol of the Holy Spirit, and it has been a constant reminder to connect to Him each time I see one — and after my prayer that morning….

 

I gently lifted the red bundle to the side of the road, and found blood on my hand when I pulled away. That put things into high gear. I dumped out a box of survival items in my trunk and stuffed it with a towel. With the bird in the box on my passenger’s lap, we headed to work as I called a friend who knew about these things.  As we turned down the road to our destination, he had a sudden burst of energy and fluttered out of the box and onto my dashboard. It was like having the Holy Spirit at the helm, literally. He perched, looking from side to side and out the window.

 

My passengers delivered to work, I gently restored the bird to the box and took him to my wildlife friend (I admit, I sang to him in the car to help calm his fear). I received a text at lunch time, that said Wildcare thought he would make it. And I had the gift of returning help to a creature that turns me to God.