WINGLESS IN BIRD LAND

                "Flightless," Bernie Fetter mumbled daily lament, "wingless in bird land.  Why was I born this way?  Why was I hatched at all?"  Emu like legs propelled Bernie through needing a mow grass toward newspaper.

                "Hi Bernie," from lily lined walkway, widow Mattie Freer waved paper.

                "Why is her paper always on the walk and mine eternally in the dew?" His festering brain complained, but he said, "Good morning, Mrs. Freer."  Morning ritual complete, Bernie turned back toward front door, oblivious to the fact that Mrs. Freer's early greetings had increased in occurrence over recent months.  But oblivious he was not to the rising sun revealing silhouette of long legs through house coat. "Long and beautiful," Bernie thought, "unlike my bird legs."

                And so went morning in-idyllic.  While one preened, the other squawked.  While one danced, the other plodded.  While one moved on, the other ground in.  Till one faithful day...

                "Hi Bernie." Mattie waved paper.

                "Good morning Mrs. Freer." Bernie averted eyes from rays of sun passing through house coat; it only reminded him of how ugly he perceived himself to be; and "I shouldn't," he thought, "be admiring Sonny's wife at all.  Sonny Freer was the closest thing to a friend I ever had.  Lord, I miss him."  Bernie headed back to earth bound nest.  Door knob in hand...

                "Bernie, Bernie." Mattie Freer interrupted his doom of gloom trance... "Bernie, can you come over here, perchance?"

                Bernie cracked open door to nest.  Got a tad more than one foot in...

                Bernie, don't you dare act like you don't hear me!" Mattie clasped hand over mouth. "Oh well," she giggled, "no turning back now." She removed hand from mouth. The veins in her neck puffed out as, "Bernie!!!" escaped lips.

                "Be right there," Bernie answered, sighed, tentatively slinked back out nest door, like a bird from under cover after thunder storm..

                "Bernie." Her palm cupped his cheek, lifted his face to hers.

                His spindly legs turned limp spaghetti. "Your hand feels so good."

                "Bernie," Mattie in all tenderness said, "how are you ever going to see me with your eyes closed?"

                Eyes clamped shut, Bernie confessed, "I didn't look.  Well maybe a little yesterday, but not today.  I'm so sorry,  I..."

                "Shush, just shush, Hon," her hand still cupped his cheek. "Open those pretty brown eyes," Mattie cooed.  The eyes of Bernie met dove eyes.  "Bernie, you need coffee," Mattie chirped.  Her hand departed his cheek; found his hand; did not turn loose till she had Bernie perched at garden table.  "I'll fetch that coffee now.  It's fresh brewed," Mattie smiled promise.

                Round garden table hummingbirds flitted from honey suckle to lily, to flower, to all about; buzzed each other and Bernie alike in territorial flight to stake claim to sweet water feeder Mattie had hung out.  Near kitchen door, over shoulder Mattie asked, "Cream and sugar?"

                "Yes Ma'am," Bernie sighed.  His eyes followed sweet Mattie curves till she disappeared into kitchen.  To self he wondered, "Why is such a lovely dove even bothering with me?" Bernie bent knees, tensed legs, prepared to take flight.  But as if by intervention divine, designated hummingbird landed squarely on the tip of his nose.

                Bearing tray, Mattie returned to find Bernie cross eyed and frozen in place by hummingbird perched on nose.  "I see you have a new friend," Mattie laughed, more a sweet laughette.  She sat tray on garden table; and so cued, hummingbird accomplice flew to wisteria vine, where in lavender flowers he sat as culpable witness.

                From tray Mattie sat out not two, but three cups of coffee.

                "What is happening?" Paranoid Bernie brain neared critical mass.

                Garden gate opened. And lo, into garden strode crow dark clad man, verily the villainous reason for Bernie Fetter's self loathing.  Bernie began to shake.  His nose dripped blood.  Mattie rounded garden table, tilted his head back, pressed napkin to nose, hugged him to her.  "Be strong Bernie.  I promised Sonny before he died to do this for you.  He loved you, Bernie."

                As specter of dark remembrance  neared; Bernie clamped eyes shut, whimpered, "No, please no, don't hurt me." And then he heard... the steps of darkness stop... felt strong male arms embrace him...

                ...Heard just a man, named Mike, weep with him, "I am so sorry, Bernie.  I should have apologized to you years ago.  Your life most certainly would have been better without this jerk harassing you every day at school."

                "Every single day for years!" Bernie howled pain.

                "If what if... could be what was... then we'd all what if today," Mike spoke from the heart, took seat at garden table. "For many years the pain, that I inflicted on you and others, unleashed torment upon me.  How could I have been so evil?  How could I hurt you like that?  More than a few sleepless nights your tears, your fears became mine.  Alcohol and drugs only made it harder to cope with the guilt.  I could not live with myself.  Death seemed the only fitting punishment.  One drunken night alone in bed, I stuck a gun in my mouth.  Finger on trigger, I heard so clearly the word this wicked world despises most, a simple 'No'.  Whether angel or not, I know not, but I knew, that I was not alone.  That morning I found myself in a church pew.  I found God's grace and forgiveness and salvation through his son Jesus.  But Bernie, I never forgot you, just did not know where you moved after Shackleton High School."

                Mattie explained, "Before Sonny passed, he heard Mike had become Pastor Mike in another state.  I promised to get you two together."

                "I am so very sorry, Bernie.  I pray that in your heart you might forgive me and receive peace," Pastor Mike hoped.

                With napkin Mattie wiped tears from past victim's face.  Bernie looked into her soft dove eyes.  He turned to Pastor Mike and spoke, "So, Mikey needs mercy.  Where was the mercy when Mikey boy, Mr. Super Jock, Mr. lets slam Bernie's head into the locker, make him beg on the floor with boot on face, then kick him in the groin, where was the mercy then?  Where was it Mike?  Maybe I should give you a taste of your own medicine?  Maybe... maybe..." Bernie quieted, saw tears well in Mattie's dove eyes, saw Mike hang his head and weep.  Marty stood, took step toward Mike, said, "Or maybe I should just grow up, get a grip, get over it, thank Jesus, and give a new friend a hug?"

                And dove eyes smiled...


                          ... Be no longer wingless in bird land...
                       
                                     ...Be set free by Jesus...

...Jesus, who even from the cross, said: Father forgive them; for they know not what they do...


                     Luke 23:24;  John 14:6;   8:31-32;  1st John 4:17