Predictability

From the woods, I heard a gentle “hooo.”

Oddly, my insides churned.  The sound of our resident owl during daylight hours was unfamiliar. 

Normally, the owl would call about three minutes after sundown.  I’d grown used to it since early springtime, at least after the bird found a mate and from the sound of things at night, they had made some baby owls.  From then on, the calls were dependable and predictable, but hearing the majestic bird during the afternoon hours didn’t make sense to me.

I felt a pending doom, which I found curious and strange.  I let it pass, I thought, and continued to prepare for guests in my new apartment.

HIYA! I’M OWL!

I was tired and hungry.  My mood was fragile.

“How are you liking your new place?” one of my guests, John, asked me.

I was comfortable and pleased to see that I had arranged my living room furniture in a small circle because the intimate setting was perfect for the occasion.

My guests were friends from a small church where my son has gone for the past year.  I’ve gone a couple of times and attended a weekly small prayer group.  I like the people I’ve met through the church.  I especially like the young Deacon (and his beautiful wife), who will soon be a full priest of the small Anglican church.

My adult son and I met the Deacon rather mysteriously and most necessarily one early and difficult Sunday morning.  I believe it’s possible that our meeting him was a divine intervention.

The primary purpose of our recent gathering at my apartment, as well as my son’s place, was for prayers and a proper blessing of our homes.  The time was also, “Holy Week,” and the church members were reaching out to help people in need.

I was in need. 

“I’m having a hard time adjusting to the sounds and lights,”  I told John.

I started telling them about the owl’s soft call and that I had been uncomfortable that it called during the day.  Within moments, I was sobbing.

“I’ve never heard the owl call during the day,” I cried.  “I don’t understand.  Maybe something is wrong with the bird,” I told them.  I cried more.

John initiated the prayer time.  I was glad and grateful. 

He started a special healing prayer for me.  Each person said a prayer, and then I prayed for John.  He used, “holy water,” to bless each of us.

After we prayed, the elder walked around my apartment.  He said more prayers and sprinkled some type of salts on the floor of each door and near the windows.

My new place is in a flood zone.  Sixty eight families lost their homes in 2013, which is why the place was vacant.

The Deacon had a special water he used to bless the home and keep us safe from floods.

I can honestly say that I feel safer about the water than I did before.  I won’t leave my dog home alone when it rains and the floods might come again, but I believe we’ll be safe.

By the time the prayers and blessings were over, I was able to laugh about being upset over the owl’s timing.  However, the experience did leave me curious and a little concerned.

The owl’s calls soothe me, not simply because I like wildlife, but the predictability brings me solace. 

I get a similar feeling when I hear a nearby delivery truck every morning at the same time.

Thanks for visiting my blog, dogkisses. 

Note:  Since I wrote this post several weeks ago, where it stayed in my draft folder, a flood has come and it was not easy, but we stayed safe and my home was not damaged.  The grass is brown from the creek having risen like it did, intertwining itself, eventually into my yard, so that around midnight, my little corner where I call home was part of the current.