Raining Feathers

I had a professor in college who held up a magazine one day in class and asked us to describe what he was holding.  Several of us took turns at describing the magazine.  We said that it had a scenic picture of mountains with a picture of a pack of cigarettes in front.  After we all agreed that we had sufficiently described the magazine in his hand, he shook his head and said, “No.  I am looking at the same magazine.  And I see a red border with a man’s face in the middle, and the word TIME across the top.” 

It was an introduction to the concept of perspective.  A lesson I have had repeated experience with over the years.  It’s always interesting how people can experience the same event and come away having experienced two totally different events. 

Ten-year-old Anna, 9-year-old Ben, and 7-year-olds Martha and Emma, were all sitting at the kitchen table eating cereal.  It was an overcast morning.  Fairly typical weather for southeast Alaska in the springtime. 

 I was making a cup of coffee when Anna shouted from the kitchen table, “Hey, look!”

The other three kids immediately expressed the same excitement as they all four stood to stare out the kitchen window.

“Yeah, look at that, Mom!” Emma exclaimed.  “It’s rainin’ feathers!”

I walked over to look out our kitchen window. 

Sure enough.  It was raining feathers.  Light grey feathers.  Each gracefully floating down to the ground in front of our kitchen window.  Lots of them.

“Yeah!” Ben agreed, equally excited about this strange occurrence.  “And only in front of our house!”

“Why’d you think God’s rainin’ feathers just on our family?” asked Martha, already caught up in the wonder of the morning.

I said I wasn’t sure.  And as more and more feathers danced their way past our window I started wondering what might be happening up on the roof.  Guessing that whatever it was it might be a little less magical than “feathers raining down just on our house.”

As the kids focused again on their breakfasts I slipped out the back door and down the side steps to get a different perspective. I crossed the road so I could see our roof better, as the feathers continued to filter down.

And there, on the very edge of our roof, sat an eagle enjoying its breakfast. Violently shredding what looked like it had been a seagull.

The eagle’s sharp talons were ripping apart the seagull’s lifeless body.  Its bloodied beak stabbing for more fresh meat. 

All the while, light grey feathers were gently cascading down to the ground. Right in front of our kitchen window.  And four blissfully excited little faces staring out the window at the magic and wonder of it all. 

Suppressing a smile I made my way back into the house, and was greeted with a barrage of questions.

“Well?!” 

“Did you see anything?!”

“What do you think is going on, Mom?!”

“Yeah, why’s God havin’ feathers rain just on our p’operty?”

I hesitated a second before answering.

“Well, I did see something up there,” I said.  “And it is definitely only raining feathers down on our property.”

They were thrilled.  This certainly was a magical day.  Why would God be doing such a crazy thing?

They cleared their empty bowls, and I recommended they stay inside and keep a look out.  It’s possible, I warned, that if they went outside the feathers might stop raining down on us.

They thought this was wise counsel and agreed to watch from the living room window.  And I crossed my fingers that the eagle would continue to be as diligent with its meal as it had been so far and not cast away any big, bloody chunks which would be viewed with horror from the spectators down below.

We all went on about our morning after that.  Although the kids took turns lingering by the window every few minutes just to see if this strange phenomenon was still occurring.

We certainly all had a different perspective on the events of the morning.  There’s the seagull, whose experience wasn’t the greatest.  The eagle, who was only interested in a meal.  Me, who had the benefit of seeing the carnage on the roof, as well as the excitement immediately below it.  And the kids, for whom this had been a magical morning, full of wonder and awe at God’s sense of humor. 

I took another sip of my coffee, once again acknowledging how very important perspective is.