I’d always loved hearing stories about ghost sightings or angel assists. I wanted to believe. Yet when I heard a firsthand account, it inevitably threw me. I thought I was open to the possibility of what we do not normally see or understand in our physical world, but my very rational left brain analysis kicked in and spit out a “does not compute” response, usually in the form of copious tears streaming down my cheeks.
I think fear at the notion of the paranormal landing so close to my reality zone threw me into a confused state of irreconciliation. I trusted the person telling me their story, yet I found it unbelievable on some level. Until it came my turn to meet face-to-face with a seemingly impossible being and I surrendered to possibility.
The sky was clear blue and the deck warm beneath my feet. I was taking a mid-day snack break from my laptop. Admittedly, I was eating my daughter’s bunny crackers while she was at preschool, admiring the bright assortment of flowers she’d helped select and pot like a big girl. That’s when the fairy-tale beast appeared, darting around blossoms. I was sure it was a hummingbird, with its shining green and red body and buzzing wings. I froze, captivated, to watch its dance.
I soon gathered that it was no normal hummingbird. This tiny, flying being had horns. Two horns! Growing right out of its smooth little head.
My thought train: What is this thing? It can’t exist! Birds don’t have horns. But here it is. For a split second that seemed to go on forever, the physical world melted and remolded entirely around this downright mythical creature.
I could not deny my microsecond acceptance of this perceived warp in reality. To my surprise, though, tears did not stream. Instead, my heart opened with possibility, awe and love.
The little imp zipped over to investigate the colorful cracker box in my hand. Up close, I saw that it was not a bird, but an insect of some sort with fuzzy green hair and antennae, not horns. It mimicked the appearance and motions of the hummingbird amazingly. I dropped back onto solid ground and experienced a new level of joy at this realization. I felt overwhelmed with gratitude for this rare visit from such a magnificent creature, and was humbled that I hadn’t even known it existed.
My analytical self got back on the laptop to puzzle piece the winged beauty into my rational world. It turns out, the hummingbird clearwing moth, a rare daytime moth, mimics the body and flight of the hummingbird, a harbinger of joy. I surely delighted in telling everyone about my little visitor, asking if they’d ever seen one, pulling up Internet photos. Yet my heart remained ajar because, for a sliver of time, I had believed that the impossible was truly possible, with back-up from my own eyes and ears. I had tasted the sweetness of belief in the miraculous, and there was no turning back.
Before this insect encounter, I had always considered myself open minded, willing to entertain concepts that must be taken on faith to some degree. Not until this moment had I really been open souled, open to living in full faith that the seemingly impossible is absolutely possible.
I now understand why they call it sweet surrender.
- Describe a time when your sense of reality was distorted or tested. What did you learn from the experience?
- What do you believe on faith?
- What do you wish to surrender to your God? Spend a few minutes in quiet meditation with this question in mind. Afterward, write down what comes up for you.