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This little book is a collection of stories which includes the chronicle of a tiny hummingbird and the unlikely friendship he and I shared. Through the time we spent together, God used Oscar to teach me many things about
life,
suffering,
and
joy
in the midst of it all.
I remain amazed that He chose this itty bitty bird and so
many precious, yet seemingly insignificant, things within His Creation to
demonstrate such profound spiritual truths to me, and I am delighted to share
these simple stories with you.
May you always take time to see God
in the little things.
They may become your
biggest treasures!
All the tales within this book are true. The simple
parable-type lessons offered here about life in my Father’s world have touched
my soul, and I pray that your heart will likewise be enriched by reading them. Inside
you will become acquainted with Oscar, the sweetest little hummingbird you ever
could meet, along with some fishy characters, and you will stroll with me
through the beauty and splendor of the garden. Together we will explore
patterns and truths found in Creation which point us to a deeper understanding
of our Creator.
Chapter 1 - A Tiny Treasure
When I first spotted the mysterious wad, immediately I had
grand hopes of discovering some sort of little treasure. I am familiar with the
ending of the curious cat but was compelled to investigate nonetheless. By the
size and shape it could have been an owl pellet! Because owls have no teeth
with which to chew their meals, they swallow them whole. They
also–uhm–“release” the undigested portion whole, in a pellet form, just about
the size of this suspicious little gem. I drew closer to the twisted glob and realized it wasn’t what I
hoped for at all.
Oh, no!
I thought. Horrified, I instantly reached down to him. We have hosted many
hummingbirds throughout the spring and summer, and this appeared to be one that
met an untimely demise. His little body was twisted in an unnatural position.
His poor, tiny head had been stripped of all feathers on top and on one side,
revealing only raw, purple and blue skin. There appeared to be fishing line
tangled all around his mouth. His condition suggested he might have been run
over by a lawn mower. I gingerly lifted up the bruised and limp little bird and
cradled him in the palm of my hand, amazed at the beauty of the tiny creature and
sorry for the suffering he must have endured.
Against all hope, I became aware of a faint, rapid thumping
of a little heartbeat against my hand. Thankful for the opportunity to comfort
him in his final moments of life, I ever so gently stroked his broken little
body and brought him close to my face while whispering, God knows when a
sparrow falls[i],
and He knows all about little hummingbirds, too. Realistically, it was more
a prayer to comfort me than an expectation that he actually understood what I
had said to him. Fighting back tears, I blew softly into his face to let him
know he was not alone. He blinked his
eye - the one that wasn’t swollen shut. Yes, he heard me, and he knew I was
there with him and perhaps he understood that God was as well.
I don’t know how much
animals understand. I do know my responsibility, according to the Word of God
in the book of Genesis, is to “rule[ii]
over (or have dominion over) the creatures of the earth.” Surely this would
include taking care of one who has fallen. God spared him long enough for me to
comfort him a bit, and for that, I was grateful. I just absolutely love the way
God works and have found that His timing is perfect, always.
Continuing to bathe
him with my warm breath, I slowly and as tenderly as possible, began to
untangle him from the fishing line in and around his mouth. My desire was to
give him as much comfort as possible. He blinked again and tried to lift his
poor, bruised, and bald little head.
As the untangling progressed, it became apparent that the
“line” was his tongue! Poor little fellow! Bless his sweet little heart! He
must have wondered, Why is this woman pulling on my tongue? He was having a bad enough day already
without me tugging on his tongue, of all things. I chuckled at the absurdity and apologized, Sorry
about that, little guy!
Gradually, he regained consciousness and his tongue retracted
into its proper place. He looked at me, with his one good eye - not with fear
but rather with curiosity. I continued
to examine him for injuries and found that one wing was not in the correct
position, and a tiny spot of blood was on the front of his neck. So, still
holding him in one hand, I took a paper towel with the other hand and dampened
one corner, folding it over to make a swab to lightly sponge his wounds. I
stroked and tucked the tiny wing back into the proper position.
By now, he was more conscious than not but still too weak to
resist my “mothering.” He didn’t have the strength to fly, but he did seem
content to rest in the warmth of my hand.
Because most acquaintances begin with an exchange of names,
I, not knowing his hummingbird name, decided to call him Oscar. You know, the Grouch. Both are green, a mess, and more than a
little grumpy. It seemed to fit.
Because of the
severity of his injuries, I feared he would perish before I could document this
precious moment so, while he was still alive I took a few pictures of Oscar in
my hand. I marveled at the opportunity to hold such a small, magnificent
creature. I continued to assure him of my intention to help him to the very
best of my ability. He was truly a pitiful sight - tiny, helpless, bruised, and
bald - but alive! 
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