This story, "Feathered Friends," will be in Touched From Above, one of the books in the series COMFORT FROM BEYOND

"Feathered Friends"
Nancy B. Gibbs

Even though my father left this world almost a year ago, remembrances of him hang on many trees. Daddy was an avid lover of birds, and in the workshop in his backyard, he constructed many birdhouses. "Birds need a place to call home, too!" Daddy announced one day when he gave my daughter a birdhouse for her birthday.

Today, many tall trees continue to stand majestically in my mother's yard. Daddy securely hung numerous birdhouses on the trees before illness invaded his body. Some of the houses are dressed in red, white and blue paint, complete with stars. Others are painted with bright colors, which would please the most cheerful birds. Then there are others dressed in camouflage, which are almost hidden to the world’s eye. The birds found them, however. For quite a few years, they have served as home for many feathered families.

Daddy’s love for birds is also obvious in the number of birdbaths and bird feeders that continue to adorn the place he called home for so many years. He wanted to make sure that the birds were happy while residing in his corner of the world. Hummingbird feeders hang right outside my mom’s kitchen window. She can watch them flutter around as she works.

Early one Sunday morning, after an extended illness, Daddy passed away in a nursing home bed. Our family members were there to say goodbye. As he took his final breath, my mother was holding his hand, my brother was rubbing his forehead and I was scratching his back. Even though he had been incoherent for the week preceding his death, I have the confidence that he knew we were beside him. After a little while, my brother took my mother home, while my husband, Roy, and I waited for the hospice nurse to arrive. Even though my heart was broken, I felt a sense of peace knowing that Daddy was no longer suffering. His soul was as free as the birds he loved. Finally, the hospice nurse arrived on the scene. With broken hearts, Roy and I went to break the news to our grown children.

As we exited the building and walked onto the nursing home parking lot, several birds greeted us, singing glorious songs. The significance of the day didn’t dawn on me until recently, but Daddy’s death occurred on a cold day in February, when the presence of birds is less common. They were welcoming Daddy into his world of freedom and also relaying an encouraging message to us from God: “Daddy’s once-frail body had been made new again and he was safe in the arms of God.”

As we stood beside Daddy’s gravesite during his final service here on earth, many eyes were focused on the birdhouse that Daddy had constructed and nailed onto the tree beside his grave. During the four years that he lived in the nursing home, the weather had taken a toll on the wooden house, which had once been painted a bright golden color. Most of the paint had worn off, leaving bare wood, except for a message Daddy had secretly written before he covered the birdhouse with paint.
The word "love" was written on each side. I believe that was Daddy’s last message to us: "As long as we continue to love each other, our hearts can go on living."

The last time I visited Daddy’s grave, I noticed that twigs and straw
filled the birdhouse. A family of birds was living there. Even though the
golden paint has faded even more over the past year, his message of love continues to be clearly written to the world.

There is no doubt in my mind that many birdhouses surround his mansion in heaven today. God promised us that everything we love will be present in heaven, and I am convinced that His pledge includes Daddy’s feathered friends. Daddy dearly loved his birds here on earth, and I’m sure that he loves and enjoys them even more in that marvelous place.

This true story will appear in Touched From Above, one of the books in the anthology series COMFORT FROM BEYOND. This hardcover book will be published by Guideposts Books. If you have a true story that might fit in this new series, please send your story to me, Phyllis Hobe, at:

P.O. Box 214
East Greenville, PA 18041

or email me at cfb@netcarrier.com

If your story is accepted, you will be offered a fee and sent a permission request to sign. We are asking for first rights. Either way, you will be able to sell the story elsewhere after we have published it.