Good Friday - Bad Week

It was Good Friday 2009, but it had been a bad week for me.  After six, long months, I was missing my child, struggling with little energy, little hope, and little strength to keep trudging through the arduous work of grief.  I had just finished about the 100^th book on the subject – this one by Paula D’Arsy who says that the bad times are a real good sign that healing is occurring – that one is moving through it and not stuck somewhere in the process.  Looking back it was, in fact, a turning point.

Mike asked if I wanted to go to the Good Friday service at church.  That was about the last thing I wanted to do - go and think about Jesus' death. It was all too raw, too real, too close.  "Well," he tried again, "Would you want to go to the golf course? Just walk a few holes?" I knew he was trying to help me feel better. I said that would be nice. Nature always lifts my spirits.

We were finishing up on the final hole when I just happened to look up to the sky.  I motioned to Mike and there above us were five – yes, five – snow white doves circling above our heads. For a few seconds, it was like they were frozen in mid-air - holding their position just for us. They lighted on the clubhouse and watched as we finished and then took flight.  

And then I remembered the song,

“On the wings of a snow-white dove

  He sends His pure sweet love

  A sign from above

  On the wings of a dove.”

Curious, I asked several people and no one had ever seen white doves at our golf course. 

Was it a sign from above - for me - on Good Friday? 

I read that often white doves are bred and trained for something called “White Dove Releases” where they are let go at special occasions like weddings or memorials, and the smart birds then return to their homes. I learned later there was a farm close by where homing pigeons were trained and released. I like to think this little band of five were delivering us a message, sending us “His pure sweet love, a sign from above on the wings of a dove.”  

My heart is always softened by the beautiful vulnerability of nature – the total dependency of creation waiting for God to reveal himself.  The Bible speaks of doves – one returned to Noah with an olive branch as a message of life, doves were used for sacrifices, and a the Holy Spirit, like a dove, descended on Jesus at His baptism.  So why would God not allow nature to speak to us? When human words, books, and therapy often do not work, a bird can say more words to me than Webster, just in their dependency, and their varied and constant message of hope.  

 It is in looking up we see. 

 Emily Dickinson wrote, 

“Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul

And sings the tune without the words

And never stops at all.”

.  Five white doves above me said, “Look at my wings, waving down pure sweet love from above.  We will be together again - all five of us.  All is well!”

But today is Good Friday 2020. I  won't be going to church this year either, but instead will go outside and give thanks for life today.  Still, I must look up to the cross. Jesus consistently and lovingly says, "Look what I did for you. I gave my life. And that was hard too. You've got this. We'll be together again. Stay with me."