Jun 30, 2014



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Catrina struggled to keep her family’s plant nursery business open. Since her father got sick she had to quickly learn administrative tasks, she admittedly did not enjoy. She felt battered between accounts payables and receivables and wondered if she would ever be able to enjoy the business again.

The nursery was all that she knew but her father knew it better, she thought. How she missed him and wished she could still curl up under his protective arm, like she did when she was young. Instead, she now harbored feelings of victimization especially when her responsibilities felt heavy, like now.

She stepped out into the nursery yard and pensively walked amongst the rows of potted ficus saplings. The only sound was the soothing white noise of the wind-rustled plants. She looked out upon the expansive yard and the size of her saddled responsibility, hair billowing, and felt utterly alone.

Catrina did not realize the gift of her crises, for it is in the darkest moments Man learns to search deep within Himself for anchors of courage and truth. Despair humbles the mind and quells the ego to consent to communicate using the otherworldly language of hope.

Catrina looked up at the bright blue sky longing for solutions.

Far above her, in the distant blue atmosphere, appeared a small red object. Raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, Catrina squinted and curiously focused upon the thing, now slowly descending. Its flight course was not straight, rather sweeping and organic, and though it was heavy with color, Catrina noticed it was weightless and completely surrendered to the winds that drove it.

“It’s a very red feather.” She was astounded.

It appeared to intelligently dance towards her with enthusiasm, transitioning between classical pirouettes and jazzy shimmies, sometimes shaking its downy fluff at her in a playful rumba. It arced above the nursery, as if it were sprinkling something over it, before it tumbled down, down, down.

Catrina made no apologies for her gaping mouth as the bright red feather gently came to rest upon her right shoe.

Some may say this was a miraculous occurrence, others may say it’s only an irrelevant feather. But for Catrina, it momentarily diverted her mind releasing a flow of opportunity previously dammed by her unhappy preoccupations.

Six months later the nursery was bustling with new customers. Catrina partnered with a local breeder to sell birds alongside her plants, tripling foot traffic and doubling sales. Beside her now busy sales register, the red feather existed on display in a small glass terrarium jar. Whenever she looked upon it she was reminded of the unforeseen opportunities of her future—and that she was never alone.

Loyally yours,