We have a beauty bush on the south side of the house.

I am crazy about not wanting to trim it because I love having the expanse of branches and leaves and the brilliant pink explosion of color in the spring that I can look out at from six different windows.

That’s a lot of beauty bush.

A jungle of beauty bush.

And a lovely home for two baby cardinals that just arrived last week.

I noticed the male first.

Brilliant red, flitting around the bush, talking to the female who spoke back every time he called.

I got up on chairs, peered out every window till I found her nest, with two tiny eggs in it, right below my upstairs closet window.

Such joy, watching everyday as the eggs turned into baby birds who held their mouths wide open waiting to be fed.

I could peer down into their throats, watch their hearts beating and feel the coziness of the two little ones nestled tightly next too each other as day wore into night as rain pelted down and the sun shone brightly and as the wind alternately blew mightily and then became still.

Through it all the mom and the dad took care of the babies and each other.

They grew and flourished and their hearts kept beating and their mouths kept opening to be fed.

I couldn’t help but feel that I had been allowed to take part in something so incredibly private and sacred.

One day, as I watched from the upstairs window, the female cardinal looked up at me and we caught each other’s eye.

I froze, relaxed my body and sent an energetic message to her:

“Thank you for allowing me to take part in your miracle out here in the bush. I am not here to harm any of you. I feel so blessed by your presence and would consider it an honor if you continued to allow me to drop in from time to time. Having your family here is such a gift for me.”

She must have given her consent because as I work on my computer the male sings to me outside my window.

The female follows me around the garden.

And the worms give up their lives for the babies in the nest.

I got to watch the whole show, how great is that?

I am sitting on a plane writing this.

I left this morning and right as the plane was taking off, big airplane wings spread wide.

I remembered that I forgot to say goodbye to the family of cardinals.

When I arrive home in a week the babies will probably be gone along with the mother and father.

At some point we all fly off to somewhere.

Everything changes.

And sometimes we forget our roots.

We were all fed, or else we would not have survived our youth.

Our hearts all beat, other wise we would have never grown up to be able to read this right now.

We were all babies in the nest before we took flight into the big wide world.

And even though we are out in the big wide world, we will always be “of the nest.”

The beating of your heart and my heart and the cardinals hearts is the rhythm and music of life.

Feeding each other and ourselves is the thread of connection that is woven between us.

Much like the threads of a nest, securely fastened to withstand anything.

No matter how many times we fly away and no matter how far we go,

we can

always,

always,

find our way

home.