Hummingbird Don’t Fly Away
By Joe Pisani
I begin my day the same way every day.
First, I say a prayer written by a girl named Nikole Drummond when she was 17 and suffering from a debilitating illness:
“Lord, let me wake up every morning and be thankful for the wonderful life that you have given me. Help me to see the good in things. Help me to be happy with who I am and the life I am living. Lead me down the path you have set for me. Guide me in the way so I get to show the world my gifts. I put all in your hands, Jesus. Use me as your vessel. I thank you for my health, love, abilities, family, friends, and most of all this life. I will do great things in your name.”
It’s one of the most wonderful prayers I’ve ever read.
After that, I make my morning offering and give everything which will occur that day — the joys, sorrows, sufferings and whatever else God has in store — to Jesus through the Immaculate Heart of Mary.
Then, while I’m brewing my coffee, I’ll look out the kitchen window at the hummingbird feeder hanging by the house. If I stand there a few minutes, I’ll usually see a tiny ruby throated hummingbird hovering nearby.
It’s as if she — sometimes it’s a he — has been waiting for me. She drinks several times and then darts away so quickly it’s difficult to follow her.
Finally, I’m ready to start my day and with the help of God’s grace, try to “do great things” in Jesus’ name.
But at that point, I make my first mistake by picking up my iPad and reading the headlines in the New York Post and the New York Times, and suddenly everything seems to fall apart before it even begins.
The news is always the same. War with Iran, war in Ukraine, Democrats versus Republicans, Republicans versus Democrats, shootings in the cities and assaults in the suburbs, drug arrests, world strife, natural disasters … every crisis around the globe starts to infect my small corner.
In no time at all, my peace and my joy get shaken by a spiritual earthquake, and I feel that old familiar fear and anxiety. A day that started out well runs into turbulence even before it begins, and I’m convinced that something will somehow, some way go wrong once I step out the door.
The fear and anxiety have to be worse for people who watch TV news, listen to the radio and spend their day scrolling through social media.
Despite a career in journalism, I’m trying to limit my consumption of stories about disaster, violence and mayhem. I also force myself to ignore the nightly news before bedtime. Otherwise, I’ll be lying awake, worrying about what’s going wrong instead of doing my daily Examen and focusing on the moments when God touched my life that day.
In past decades, people got their news from a paper that a delivery boy dropped on the doorway. Now, it’s a nonstop, 24-hour news cycle — one crisis after another, one tragedy after another, one scandal after another, one crime after another.
As a result, the peace I get from my morning prayer and the simple pleasure of watching hummingbirds can quickly dissipate and be replaced by a chronically negative view of life.
The antidote is to focus on our lives and to watch and wait for the opportunities that Christ sends us to share his love. They come into everyone’s life; however, when we’re preoccupied with politics and mayhem, we miss those chances to “do great things in Jesus’ name.”
While we should pray for the victims of war, famine and natural disasters and offer assistance as much as we can, our primary purpose is to be found in the present moment in our small corner of the world, which is exactly where God has placed us to accomplish his will.
Jesus certainly was anticipating our times when he gave his Farewell Discourse and told the Apostles: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give it to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”
And so, I try to end the day the way I began it, by saying a prayer of thanksgiving and then waiting and watching for the hummingbirds to return for their evening meal. When they do, the peace and joy return.