My One-Legged Feathered Friend

Photo by Tomislav Galić on Unsplash

“Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?”

– Matthew 6:26

It was the first Spring after the amputation of my left leg from a horrific motorcycle accident. A dear friend came to help me sort through my cherished shoe collection. Crutches propped against the adjustable bed, I sat one-legged on top of the fluffy comforter.

One by one, my friend pulled from the double-door-closet pairs of fun, sassy footwear. Heels, wedges, sandals, and tall boots made their way from the shelves as models in the palms of her hands. With each pair, my heart sank further into depression. Tears slowly fell from my eyes, landing on my lap. Get a grip, Sheila. You had your leg torn off and didn’t shed a tear. Now, you’re crying over shoes?

Most of my life I have loved feminine accessories. God made me a girl, and I enjoy dressing like one. Not until I saw the mountain of shoes I would no longer wear did the reality of limb loss hit me. The permanent physical loss made a massive impact on the reality that a part of me — the girly girl who wore fun shoes — was gone. It may be hard for some to understand, but in that moment a piece of me had died. Grief took its place.

Processing loss is not easy. Coming to terms with the death of a lost body part is just plain weird. On one hand, there’s a part of you that is grateful to be alive. Yet, on the other hand, you live every single moment with the constant reminder of loss. You can never walk away from it.

For several days after the heartbreaking shoe-purging pity party, I struggled big time. Who am I, God? How do I do this one-legged life?

After yet another restless night, I rolled over to look out my bedside window at the dew-covered ground. I remember thinking the blah weather matched my blah mood. I don’t want to be an amputee today, I said aloud. Being an amputee exhausts even the healthiest of limb-loss people, and I did not have it in me that particular day.

As I reached to pull the covers over my head, I heard a faint scratching sound outside the window. To my surprise, a tiny sparrow was clinging tightly to the window screen. The feathered creature rapidly fluttered its wings, trying to hang on. As if it could hear me, I said, “For better traction, drop down to the brick window ledge, my little friend.”

The tiny fowl flew away from the screen only to return again. I could not understand why it continued to struggle. Putting on my glasses and propping on the side of the bed for a closer look, I saw it. My early morning visitor had only one leg!

In God’s providence, He brought to me one of His precious creatures to teach me His

sovereignty. When I physically struggle, when I wobble and walk like the town drunk, or even when I fall, the Holy Spirit gently reminds me of my one-legged feathered friend.

You, my friend, are much more valued than a sparrow.

Questions for Reflection:

1. How has God met you in His creation?

2. What have you learned from the Creator?

3. In what ways can you honor God’s creation?