I sat in my office listening, tears glistening in my eyes as a bereft client shared her story.

Suddenly massive red firetrucks and flashing police cars rocketed down King St. toward the center of town, horns blasting and sirens screaming their messages of alarm and disaster.

Nothing unusual.

Until I discerned a faint, lilting melody holding firm within the cacophony of noise. From the depths of a tiny brown bird, an aria in praise of life tumbled forth.

A lone song sparrow, delayed in departing for more southern climes and seemingly unruffled by calamity or cold, was cheerily singing along with the trucks at the top of her lungs.

She may have been minuscule in stature, but the force of faith and exaltation that trilled from her throat could have brought the gods to their knees.

When the river of life rushed by in a torrent of trauma and drama, this holy emissary didn’t budge. She held her ground, sang the irrepressible song she came to this world to sing, and in the sharing, illuminated brokenness with Light.

-Marilyn Marks 11/4/23