The Hummingbird’s Dance

“Winnie, if we stand very still, they’ll think you’re a flower,” I whispered.
So we did.

Winnie embraced my T-shirt shoulder, her sun bonnet tied beneath her chin, We did not move.

The morning’s comforting breeze fluttered Winnie’s bonnet, but my baby stayed still. Her puckered cheek pressed comfortably on my face. Her big brown eyes were wide with wonder.

Baby’s know when they’re in the middle of God’s magic. You see, they’ve just been with Jesus. They understand the holy moment.

The buzz began above our heads, like tiny toy planes hovering and circling. Then they dove and swooped and swayed. Hummingbirds were garden dancing. Winnie was their flower partner. We stood motionless and mesmerized.

There were five of them, ruby throat, gray down, emerald green. They dipped and hovered and savored the cool, dim day. Food enticed them. But first, the dinner dance.

The tiny dancers came so close we could see their shimmering eyes and the blur of their fairy wings. Winnie and I said nothing. The only sound was the buzz of the wings and the shirr of the leaves.

The hummingbirds were weaving a spell with their dance. Winnie and I were hypnotized. Round and round our heads they spun.

Then, a ruby throat sailed straight to Winnies bonnet!
Good job, Winnie! You ARE a flower! The dancers see you are full of sweetness and light! Winnie’s brown eyes followed her darting partner.

This morning Winnie and I were locked in the God magic of a hummingbird dance. Winnie was the flower and I, the stem. For a moment, we were a garden and our dancers were enchanting.

Thanks, God, for the little flower. Thanks, God, for the garden dance.

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