Peering Through Life's Window

The blue heron stood perfectly still in the warm morning sun on the white sandy beach in Destin, Florida. Six feet from a fishing pole and a bucket of live bait, the two-foot tall skinny bird moved not a muscle, his head held high. The fisherman in a beige fishing cap waded barefoot into the white foamy waves. He cast his line, and the blue heron slowly lifted his pencil thin legs, moving forward ever so precisely, ever so carefully. As soon as the fisherman gazed backward the bird straightened his slender body. When he faced forward again, the heron tentatively stepped with his long wiry feet positioning himself even closer to his goal. The moment the man glanced at the pretty light blue creature this finely feathered piece of the shore’s landscape assumed his statuesque pose. Over and over he and the man in the beige cap repeated the action. “He thinks he’s a stealth bird that we can’t see as long as he isn’t doing anything,” I told my husband. Listening to the roar of the tide besid

This morning I turned on the car radio to hear the emcee congratulate a woman for finishing a marathon in the top twenty-five runners. She said, "I just needed someone to believe in me." Giving background the announcer explained that she had wanted to run the race, but didn't think she even would be able to finish. A friend had signed her up. Then, she was committed. Today, she was exhilarated. Listening to the story reminded me of a similar time in my life. I wanted to attend a writers' conference a little over an hour from my house in a place foreign to me. Each time I picked up the form to fill it out I recalled my terrible sense of direction. Then, I had visions of myself driving frantically down street after street, never finding my destination, or worse yet, leaving the site meandering on dark roads late at night unable to get back to the expressway. I know. When that happens one either asks someone or checks his or her navigation screen. I didn't have a GPS