On Tiny Wings

This morning began the way it usually does…

In conversation with God.

 

It always starts with a gratitude list: ten things I’m thankful for. Sometimes they’re sweeping gifts that shape the course of my life. Other times they’re the smallest details that might otherwise go unnoticed. I move freely between the two.

 

This rhythm has been part of my mornings for years. It anchors my heart in gratitude before the day unfolds, giving me something to return to when life inevitably brings its challenges.

 

But today in particular, I added a familiar prayer

 

“Give me a sign Lord. If this is the path you’ve laid out before me, give me a sign that this is Your Will over my life.” 

 

By 6:30, I stepped into the garden. The sun had not yet made its ascent. These quiet moments, before the world fully awakens, have become some of my most cherished. I love welcoming the morning light.

I started my wandering by greeting Tulsi. Making a mental note that she’s in need of another bloom harvest.

 

I sat with St. John’s Wort, which is spreading so beautifully. They allege she never blooms in central Texas. 

 

But I whispered to her anyway.

 

 “Miracles do happen. Don’t let people box you in from your fullest expression and potential. You can soften here. In this garden, you’re safe.”

I continued meandering through the lush vibrancy of the plants until I reached the melons. It’s one of those playful plants that is stellar at hide and seek. I always have to kneel down, lifting vines and peeking beneath the canopy of leaves to see whether they’ve been quietly producing fruit! 

 

To my delight, they had.

 

A tiny Kajari melon

 

Just enough to lift my spirits a little higher!

As I walked by the pomegranate tree, something caught my attention. The morning light had begun filtering through its branches in the most mesmerizing way. This tree has experienced remarkable growth over the past couple seasons, and today it seemed almost to glow.

The Turk’s cap nestled against its trunk, the way gentle waves meet the shoreline.

This was the moment.

So I knelt down, pulled out my camera, and framed the shot.

And then it happened.

Out of nowhere, not one, but two hummingbirds flew into the frame.

I have always loved birds, but hummingbirds have held a special place in my heart. They visited me constantly when I lived in California, but here in Texas, I rarely see them anymore.

My jaw dropped.

My heart raced.

My camera was already in my hands.

All I had to do was press record.

Hummingbirds are known for their speed. They’re here one second and gone the next.

But these two lingered.

They hovered beside the Turk’s cap blossoms, sipping the morning nectar before darting back into the air. Then, almost unbelievably, they floated directly in front of me for what felt like forever

…almost as though they had mistaken me for another flower in the garden.

The moment felt suspended in time.

Pure wonder.

I sat there in complete disbelief.

And in that instant, I knew.

This was God’s answer.

Not because hummingbirds are magical.

Not because I believe every bird carries a hidden message.

But because I had asked my Father for a sign.

And in His kindness, He answered in a way so personal, so unexpected, and so full of delight that I never could have orchestrated it myself.

Sometimes His answers don’t arrive with thunder.

Sometimes they arrive on tiny wings.

Scripture:

Isaiah 30:21

“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’”

 

Until next time,

Jasz