Last week I was re-reading Love Letters to God by my dear friend Lynn D. Morrissey. In a chapter called “Bye-Bye BlackBird,” she writes about a really creative way God gave her to visualize and release her worries and fears to Him. I asked her if I could share it here with you!
It was like a scene from Hitchcock’s The Birds . . . . Perched in profusion in the tangled net of oak branches webbing a wintry sky were crows, more crows, myriad crows—brash, brazen, boisterous—cawing raucously like doomsday prophets, disrupting my peace. I had never seen or heard anything like this bird-blitz—except in the movie, and I presumed that sound to be faked. Yet these birds were real, seeming suddenly to blanket our oaks. The trees were black with them.
How had they come? Suddenly? No . . . While I was writing my prayers, I had occasionally looked out the window into the backyard and noticed a crow or two peppering the branches; then from time to time, I saw several more alight. One by one, bird by bird, they had come. Absorbed in my writing, I had forgotten about them until their numbers and noise could not be ignored. They were more than a distraction—they were a disquieting presence that had ruined my serenity and sojourn with God.
As ridiculous as it may seem, I opened the window, and shouted at them to leave, to no avail. The pesky crows maintained their post. Then Pete, our gallant neighbor, charged out his back door and, armed with a BB gun, shot decisively overhead. Pop. Pop. Pop. In a blink they were gone, a thunder of wings beating the air.
For some odd reason, maybe because of the crows’ ebony color, I recalled the song Grandma Nina used to sing when I was small: “Pack up all my care and woe, here I go, singing low, ‘Bye Bye Blackbird.’” The crows were now blackbirds symbolizing cares, woes, and