The body of the little song bird lies dead in front of the
conservatory windows. Although Indy is usually to be found asleep in the house,
she does venture out daily for brief forays so immediately, she got the dirty
looks and harsh words.
But maybe they were undeserved. We’ve had dead birds around
the big windows before … they’ve mistakenly flown at speed into the glass and
been stunned, or killed.
Things are not always as they seem. I can be quick to
apportion blame, to make assumptions.
Lord, give me a generous spirit, eager to help those who are
in need without rushing to point the finger. Judge not, and all that.
Sorry, Indy.
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