In the company of a kingfisher

I love birds.

Perhaps I should have been an ornithologist  - although science wasn't my strength.
Or perhaps a dedicated 'twitcher' - although I haven't got the telescopic cameras that provide exceptional glimpses of a bird's feathered beauty for those patient enough to wait and wait and wait.

There's something about watching birds  - the way the large fledglings pester their parents for food, the squabbling over crumbs by the bins near the beach, the delicate courtship dances, the swoops and stall dives of the resident wood pigeons - that makes my heart lighter.

And there's something about listening to birdsong - the morepork's haunting,  repetitive notes echoing through the darkness, the racket of sparrows sorting out their sleeping arrangements in the roosting tree, and the tui's trills and whistles just before dawn - that makes my spirit sing.

The kingfisher or, in Maori,  'Kotare'  is my all-time favourite. Years ago its coming and going with flashes of brilliance reminded me of the way the divine entered my life - sometimes bright and clear, at other times fleeting and mystical.

In September 2006,  I had an encounter with  a kingfisher that left me blessed and grateful.
My husband and I were a long way from home. Diagnosed with dangerous blockages in his heart only a week before, he was in a specialised hospital undergoing a quadruple bypass operation. It was a long operation and so I went for a walk to the playing fields nearby to occupy some time and get some respite from hospital walls and the heaviness of my thoughts.

As I walked into the field, a flash of turquoise caught my attention - a kingfisher was sitting on a tree about five metres away. Nothing unusual about that.

But what happened next remains with me to this day.

As I began to walk, the kingfisher flew a little way ahead of me. And each time I caught up with this brilliantly beautiful bird, it took flight again and settled a a few metres ahead. This happened several times until I reached the big field. The kingfisher by then had settled on the higher vantage point of a power line and stayed there while I made a couple of circuits , my steps and thoughts lightening as I got some much needed exercise and released some of my anxiety into the care of the great Love some of us name as God.  As I turned to go back to the hospital, I looked at the kingfisher expecting it to stay where it was - but instead it flew ahead of me. And so we repeated our outward journey's pattern - I walked and the kingfisher kept me company until it was time to leave the park.

Now you may think me fanciful but for me that bird was a Godly messenger - reminding me that I was not alone in this ordeal, that God was in so many ways keeping me company - through the beauty of the creation, through the prayers of friends all over the country, and through the Spirit at work in the world - in the medical team whose efforts saved my husband's life, and in the kingfisher's soothing presence as I paced and prayed.

I did not know it at the time, but the kingfisher takes its name, Halcyon sacra from a mythical bird who was able to calm the wind and the waves as it nested on the sea during the winter solstice.

I think of the One who calmed the wind and waves on the Sea of Galilee.

Between them, Jesus and the kingfisher certainly calmed the storm in me and allowed hope to be born from heartache.