The Hummingbird, A True Story

by Marilyn Churchill

Mother loved hummingbirds and kept a hummingbird feeder outside her kitchen window. These unusual birds are colorful, feisty, and industrious; all words I could use to describe Mom as well. No wonder they were her favorites!

Mom was quick and I was slow. We had always had our differences. She was practical and down to earth; I have always been an artist and a dreamer. But the love we had for each other was beyond measure. Through all our conflicts there was never any question about that!

One day, I called Mom to tell her that I had received a commission to create an oil painting that included the image of a hummingbird. My new client was a lovely middle-aged woman who wanted a memorial painting, and she told me the heart-wrenching story behind it. Four years earlier she had adopted twin boys and one of the infants had died in his crib of SIDS, (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.)

After the funeral, overwhelmed with grief, she sat alone on her patio, crying. Like all SIDS mothers, she wondered if perhaps she could have done something to prevent her baby’s death. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she prayed for peace, and for faith to believe that her baby was now safe with God.

Suddenly, she looked up to find a hummingbird hovering right in front of her face. The hummingbird took one of her tears, and then flew away. She felt awe, and a deep sense of peace, believing her prayers had been answered. Now, four years later, she wanted to memorialize this experience with a painting of her two sons; one in the arms of an angel, the other one walking alongside and holding the angel’s hand. Overhead, in a bower of wisteria, I would paint the hummingbird.

I was actually a little worried about what Mom would think of this mystical story. But I had completely misjudged her. Her mother’s heart embraced it. And she wanted this painting to be the best thing I had ever done!

Every year, Mom, Dad, my older brother and I got together in Maui for a two week family vacation. I brought my “work in progress” that year, setting up my easel outside on the lanai overlooking the beach. Over my shoulder, Mom watched me paint with a critical eye. “Can’t you make that angel a little thinner? Her robe is too poufy,” she said. “I don’t like that tree,” and, “Can’t you use a different shade of blue?” It made me feel self-conscious. I found it hard to take, even though I knew that she only wanted me to succeed.

I gave the painting my very best effort. The finished work was well received by my client. Mom was moderately pleased. What pleased me most about the painting was the way the colors seemed to glow.

Three years later, Mom was on vacation in Maui again. But that year I was unable to go. Instead, I was in California looking out my ocean view window at a rainy day, and wishing that I were in Maui with Mom. I was talking to a friend on the phone when suddenly there was a fluttering at my window. I gasped! I had the impression that an enormous bird was throwing itself against the glass. At first, I thought it was a seagull.

“What is it?” my friend asked on the other end of the line.

I looked again. “It’s a hummingbird!” I said with surprise.

“What’s it doing?” my friend asked.

“It’s hovering in my window and just looking at me!” I said with astonishment.

The hummingbird was five feet from where I stood on the other side of the glass. Except for its wings, it didn’t move. And it was looking me right in the eye! I was amazed that it did not fly away.

“Is it gone?” my friend asked.

“No, it’s still looking at me!”

“Well, hello there!” I said to the hummingbird, wondering if it could hear me through the glass. I was enchanted. And then, I actually began feeling alarmed. On one hand I wanted to commune with this tiny bird that was paying so much attention to me. On the other hand, I thought it should fly off like birds normally do. I stood with the phone to my ear for almost two minutes, not saying a word, and stared at the hummingbird as it looked back at me. Then, finally, the hummingbird flew away.

“Well, that was certainly unusual,” my friend agreed.

I looked at the clock. It was 2:40. “I gotta go,” I said. “I have just enough time to get to the library and back before my 4:00 appointment arrives.” We said good-bye and I hung up the phone.

I returned from the library shortly before 4:00 and picked up the mail on my way into the house. I smiled when I saw that there was a letter from Mom—and a postcard as well! I would save the letter to read later. But I read what Mom had written on the postcard with a picture of a Hawaiian red hibiscus. She wrote: “It’s not the same here without you. I dreamed about you last night. I love you!”

I was still thinking about Mom’s note when I saw the blinking light on my answering machine. It was a message from my brother. He had terrible news. Mom had suddenly died in Maui of a heart attack. She had been making Greek soup for my Dad and my brother and said she wanted to lie down for a minute to rest. It had happened at about 2:40 PM, California time. Immediately, I heard the doorbell ring. It was my best friend arriving for our 4:00 appointment. With tears streaming down my face I opened the door and rushed into her arms.

Over the next few hours my friend prayed with me. We talked. There were calls from my family. I lit candles and listened to Handel’s Messiah and wept.

Later that night, the memory of the hummingbird penetrated through my sadness. I was jolted out of my tears. Slowly, I began to realize that I had just received a beautiful gift, and it had been tailor-made for me. The poetry of the hummingbird's visit was overwhelming. Everything seemed connected and all the loose ends were tied up in a bow. Life had meaning, and the meaning was love! Mom had sent me one more message! I could just see her mischievous grin.

Could all this have simply been a coincidence? If I had seen that hummingbird on any other day, I would always have remembered it. But on that day, at that time… I’ll always have strong feelings about it.

The hummingbird touched my heart in such a profound way that I found strength to sustain me through the sadness. On the long plane ride back to my family home, and as my family assembled for the wake, while I read my eulogy and when I played my Mother’s favorite hymns on the piano at her funeral, through all the tears, I had an overwhelming and abiding sense of Love. I had the strong feeling that the veil between heaven and earth was very thin, indeed.