Saturday, March 17, 2018

The Robin’s Blood

January 27, 2013 by  
Filed under Monthly Articles, Testimonies

by Mary Ellen Shedron

Mark Hall’s lyrical voice stuck on ‘repeat play’ in my head.

“… I start the day, the war begins. Endless reminding of my sin. And time and time again, your truth is drowned out by the storm I’m in.

“… I can’t live by what I feel about the truth your word reveals. And I’m not holding on to You, But, You’re holding onto me, You’re holding onto me.”

Snippets from his Casting Crowns song “East to West” played over and over in my mind’s sound system as I drove toward home.  My latest storm was thrashing me so viciously, I couldn’t fasten my grip onto anything, let alone God.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.  I stepped out in faith, literally putting myself on the line to save a friend.  In vindictive return, Satan attacked my family, who in turn, attacked me.

After 11 torturous miles, I reached home.  As the garage door lifted, I shifted the car into reverse and aimed for the garage.  Glancing in the rear-view mirror, I glimpsed something at the back garage window.

A second glance defined the something no better.  Something or someone outside the window?  An animal?  What was it?

Third glance revealed a bird, thrashing at the window, struggling to free itself from the dark garage and fly free into the sunlit spring morning.

I stopped the car and with minimal motion, quietly stepped out and closed the door.

As I moved slowly toward the bird, a guttural moan left its exhausted body.  The adult robin rested on the sill only fraction of a moment before resuming its freedom fight.

Bashing its body and wildly flapping its wings against the lower corner of the window caused only cobwebs and dust to cloud the air.  No freedom would come.

With my fear of birds overtaking me (I was bitten by a perturbed parakeet years ago), I silently asked myself how I was going to free this creature from sure death.

Then, something in me took over.

“You’re going to be OK robin. I’m here to help you,” I heard my voice softly saying. “You’re going to be OK robin. I’m here to help you.”

I remembered a fish net lay atop a cabinet immediately to the window’s right.  Not daring to take my eyes off the robin for fear it would somehow see the open garage door behind me – and wildly fly into me in its zeal to be free – I reached up blindly to find the net’s handle.

On first reach, the handle met my hand and I slowly lifted the net down.  “You’re going to be OK robin. I’m here to help you.”

Again, I stepped toward the bird.  In its last bid for freedom, the robin vehemently flung itself against the unforgiving window.  A final, guttural groan escaped the dying avian.

Split second timing and precision movement brought me swiftly toward the bird, net in hands.  “You’re going to be OK robin. I’m here to help you.”

I gently closed the net around the weary robin.  It tried with its draining might to fight me, but soon surrendered.

The robin, with frenzied eyes and tattered feathers, lay on its back in my hand in the net that gently provided safe enclosure.  “You’re going to be OK robin. I’m here to help you.”

I walked slowly to the front of the garage, gently carrying God’s weary creature.  Stepping just outside the door into warm sun and fresh air, I slowly removed the fish net.

Sensing freedom, the robin righted itself in my hand – no broken wings, no broken legs – and gracefully lifted itself skyward.

Trying to make sense of the few moments that just played out before me, I walked back into the garage and surveyed the scene’s props.

How did I reach that fish net?  My right arm and shoulder, battered from years of using a cane because of multiple sclerosis, would not allow pain-free movement to reach horizontally, let alone above my head.

How did my hands grasp the handle and hold the net around the robin?  Multiple sclerosis has stolen my once sure grips.  My eye-hand coordination is mostly uncoordinated.

How was I able to do this?  The garage door was down, so how did the bird get in the garage?

In that moment, I glimpsed the robin’s blood on the lower left window pane.  Realizations bombarded my heart, my soul, my mind.

Mark Hall’s voice began anew.

“… I can’t live by what I feel about the truth your word reveals. And I’m not holding on to You, But, You’re holding onto me, You’re holding onto me.

 “In the arms of your mercy I find rest, ‘Cause You know just how far the east is from the west. From one scarred hand to the other.”

God’s calm voice whispered to me, “You’re going to be OK Mary Ellen.  I’m here to help you.”

Now, when my storms rage strongest, my memory replays the garage miracle.  Each time, my troubled waters are calmed as powerful peace refreshes my weary soul.


Mary Ellen ShedronMary Ellen Shedron  A 23-year career journalist in print/broadcast/web, Mary Ellen pursues God’s heart and her passion for encouragement writing.  Catch her latest inspirational outreach via At 50-something, Mary Ellen is single and wonderfully blessed with family and friends who help her battle multiple sclerosis.

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2 Responses to “The Robin’s Blood”
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