I pulled into the driveway yesterday and immediately saw two neighborhood cats holding vigil over a small being on the ground. I immediately thought: “damn it!” I sounded my horn, and screamed at the cats, and they took off, and then I discovered an injured dove. Many of the feathers had been removed, there was blood, and she looked frightened. She had a feather sticking out of her eye and I could tell she was alive by the way her eyelid moved with each slow blink. I was worried about handling her, so I sat on the porch reading about what to do. Many sites suggested breaking her neck to prevent suffering. I was devastated because we had just lost a possum. The neighbor suggested throwing her in a tree and letting her die in there away from cats.


I didn’t know what to do so I said a small prayer for her. After I thought, let me just try to move her a little bit. And with that movement, she flew into the sky. It was such a remarkable feeling to pray and then watch life return to a being. It was just coincidence. My prayer didn’t bring her healing. It’s a bit of luck that we heal, that we survive the things we do when battling injury, disease, or violence. I wanted prayers to heal my mom, my dad, my dog, my cat, and that possum. But I got this bird. This one bird that flew away, surviving what would have been a painful death at the paws of two street cats. This one bird that let me believe my prayer worked. As the bird flew over the rooftop, I cried and said thank you.