clean. The little
house was packed full with furniture, but there was never any
dust, no piles of papers, and it always smelled clean and
homely.
I loved Sally very much, and I enjoyed all those childhood
summer visits to her and her little cottage; I loved that
mountain and the nights that we slept out in a tent with a
campfire and owls hooting nearby. Of course, my bird enjoyed
these nights up the mountain very much, too. He was getting
bigger and stronger now, but it was strange that, with his big
dark beak, he never once pecked my fingers or scraped me
with his long claws. One afternoon I picked him up, as I often
did, and took him for a walk with me. I brought him down the
mile or so to my Grandmother's house and showed him all
around the gardens.
As we were walking, the angel Michael appeared beside me,
and he walked all around the garden with me and the bird.We
walked through my grandmother's kitchen and dining room
without my being seen (sometimes the angels do things so that
people won't notice me) and into the beautiful bright corridor
with the wonderful flowers and the big windows.
'Your little bird is growing so big and so strong. You never
named it?' asked Michael.
'No, it didn't need a name,' I said, 'my bird is just "Love",
that's all.'
Michael looked at me and said, 'One day you will understand
why you called it "Love".'
I just looked at him. Michael's eyes were so bright it was as
if you could see for miles and miles inside of them; as if you
were going down a long, long road; as if you were passing
through time itself.
I always had my bird with me. Don't think I ever forgot him,
even for one moment. On the last day of the holiday I was up
on the mountain with my Da. We had the tent and we had lit
a fire, even though it was a great sunny day. I looked at my bird
sadly. The angels had told me when I found him that he would
not be going home with me at the end of this holiday.
I stood behind the tent holding my bird and talking to him
gently.
'How am I going to live without you? I'll miss you so much.'
Da called me over and said, 'Come on Lorna, that bird needs
to exercise his wings more.'
I picked him up sadly. He was so cheerful and flapped his
wings and let out a loud squawk.
My father called and I whooshed the bird out of my hands
up into the air. Da caught him and he flapped his wings in Da's
hands. Da whooshed him up into the air back to me. But,
three-quarters of the way across, his body fell to the ground.
My bird was gone! His spirit flew away: his wings seemed
enormous and he seemed to turn golden. He turned his head
to me; his eyes were so bright that they smiled back at me. He
wasn't an ordinary bird; he was a gift from God and the angels.
I felt happy and sad in the same moment. I was happy for my
bird – he was perfect now and he was soaring like an eagle –
but I knew I would miss him terribly.
My father rushed over, he was so upset, 'Oh Lorna, I'm
sorry, I know you didn't want the bird to fly further, you didn't
really think he should.'
'It's all right, it's okay,' I said. Da felt so sad, so hurt and so
guilty and I couldn't comfort him because I couldn't tell him
what had happened, that it wasn't his fault.
Michael had been very clear. 'You can never tell him. You are
different, Lorna, he can only see its body there on the ground.
He wouldn't understand. Don't you know how hard it is for
man to understand God as it is?'
I begged, 'But my Da is so hurt, Michael.'
'No, you can't tell him,' he said, 'one day you will tell him
some of what you know, but not now. Don't worry, little one.'
Michael would always call me 'little one' when he was trying to
comfort me.
Da and I never discussed the loss of the bird again, but I
think that for a long time after he felt guilty about it.
One sunny day I was walking up the lane to Granny's from the
empty house and smiling to myself; I felt enormous strength
and confidence because I knew that someone very special was
close by. My angels
house was packed full with furniture, but there was never any
dust, no piles of papers, and it always smelled clean and
homely.
I loved Sally very much, and I enjoyed all those childhood
summer visits to her and her little cottage; I loved that
mountain and the nights that we slept out in a tent with a
campfire and owls hooting nearby. Of course, my bird enjoyed
these nights up the mountain very much, too. He was getting
bigger and stronger now, but it was strange that, with his big
dark beak, he never once pecked my fingers or scraped me
with his long claws. One afternoon I picked him up, as I often
did, and took him for a walk with me. I brought him down the
mile or so to my Grandmother's house and showed him all
around the gardens.
As we were walking, the angel Michael appeared beside me,
and he walked all around the garden with me and the bird.We
walked through my grandmother's kitchen and dining room
without my being seen (sometimes the angels do things so that
people won't notice me) and into the beautiful bright corridor
with the wonderful flowers and the big windows.
'Your little bird is growing so big and so strong. You never
named it?' asked Michael.
'No, it didn't need a name,' I said, 'my bird is just "Love",
that's all.'
Michael looked at me and said, 'One day you will understand
why you called it "Love".'
I just looked at him. Michael's eyes were so bright it was as
if you could see for miles and miles inside of them; as if you
were going down a long, long road; as if you were passing
through time itself.
I always had my bird with me. Don't think I ever forgot him,
even for one moment. On the last day of the holiday I was up
on the mountain with my Da. We had the tent and we had lit
a fire, even though it was a great sunny day. I looked at my bird
sadly. The angels had told me when I found him that he would
not be going home with me at the end of this holiday.
I stood behind the tent holding my bird and talking to him
gently.
'How am I going to live without you? I'll miss you so much.'
Da called me over and said, 'Come on Lorna, that bird needs
to exercise his wings more.'
I picked him up sadly. He was so cheerful and flapped his
wings and let out a loud squawk.
My father called and I whooshed the bird out of my hands
up into the air. Da caught him and he flapped his wings in Da's
hands. Da whooshed him up into the air back to me. But,
three-quarters of the way across, his body fell to the ground.
My bird was gone! His spirit flew away: his wings seemed
enormous and he seemed to turn golden. He turned his head
to me; his eyes were so bright that they smiled back at me. He
wasn't an ordinary bird; he was a gift from God and the angels.
I felt happy and sad in the same moment. I was happy for my
bird – he was perfect now and he was soaring like an eagle –
but I knew I would miss him terribly.
My father rushed over, he was so upset, 'Oh Lorna, I'm
sorry, I know you didn't want the bird to fly further, you didn't
really think he should.'
'It's all right, it's okay,' I said. Da felt so sad, so hurt and so
guilty and I couldn't comfort him because I couldn't tell him
what had happened, that it wasn't his fault.
Michael had been very clear. 'You can never tell him. You are
different, Lorna, he can only see its body there on the ground.
He wouldn't understand. Don't you know how hard it is for
man to understand God as it is?'
I begged, 'But my Da is so hurt, Michael.'
'No, you can't tell him,' he said, 'one day you will tell him
some of what you know, but not now. Don't worry, little one.'
Michael would always call me 'little one' when he was trying to
comfort me.
Da and I never discussed the loss of the bird again, but I
think that for a long time after he felt guilty about it.
One sunny day I was walking up the lane to Granny's from the
empty house and smiling to myself; I felt enormous strength
and confidence because I knew that someone very special was
close by. My angels
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