It was 7am when I stood on the back deck breaking up ice in the birdbath so I could refill it with fresh water for the little creatures who come to visit. I then filled a new feeder with a special treat. This year, thanks to my friend Susan, I discovered dried mealworms and we’ve been blessed with an abundance of bluebirds who swoop in multiple times a day for a snack. 

Looking up at the old ash tree that hosts a variety of feathered friends (and an occasional raccoon family), I took a deep breath and was instantly transported back in time by the call of a mourning dove. Her gentle cooing brought me to my first visit to Miraval Resorts just outside of Tucson, Arizona. I was there for a site meeting in preparation for a new in-person retreat and the drive from the airport already had me smitten with the land. Miraval appeared like a soothing oasis in the middle of a beautiful desert. 

The general manager, who would become a dear friend, had booked me into a cozy room that overlooked the Catalina Mountains. After a long trip and a busy year, I was grateful and delighted to be there, ready for a restful few days of self-care.

At sunrise, after a long night’s sleep, I lay in bed listening to the call of a mourning dove just outside my bedroom window. The soft murmuring sound brought tears to my eyes and I started to cry. It was a bittersweet cry, the kind that sneaks up on you when you’re finally present to yourself, feeling tired yet content and longing for a life you miss because you’ve been so distracted by busyness and responsibility.

Today, standing in the light of the rising sun listening to the dove’s call, I felt that same wistful desire but this time it was a longing for something different – connection, the chance to visit with loved ones without worry, the joy and ease of dinners filled with laughter and good conversation, and a return to the self-care retreats I enjoy hosting by the sea. 

It’s coming, I tell myself as I look out over the land. Buds are bursting at the ends of branches, red-breasted robins scurry across the lawn, a young rabbit nibbles on the new shoots sprouting beneath the magnolia tree. 

There are signs of spring everywhere…

Renewal.
Growth.
New Beginnings.
Rebirth.

Yes, it’s coming and we just need to wait a little longer.

Love,
Cheryl