A few evenings ago Ginger, her husband and I had supper with some of their friends. Danny, Gretchen and Cleo (Gretchen’s mother) live in a beautiful home on the side of an Idaho mountain. They used to live in Alaska. Since I’m married to an Alaskan, I should have seen what was coming when they invited us on a short hike before we ate. “We’ll take it easy and slow,” they assured me right before the mountain slope went completely vertical.
I made it about twenty feet before I admitted defeat and announced I would go back to the house. Cleo, who at age 85 has a whole lot more sense than me and didn’t pretend she could handle a hike, welcomed me when I returned. We sat outside together and watched the humming birds visit the feeders.
I took pictures of the tiny birds. Most of them were grey with green backs, but now and then a red hummer came to feed. At first, I was infatuated with the flashy little fellow and took picture after picture. My infatuation evaporated quickly when I saw him swoop in and chase the others birds away. The red-throated wonder was nothing but a big bully.
Disappointed, I put the camera away and visited with Cleo. She told stories of her life and her children and of God’s goodness through every trial she’s faced. Before we left that evening, Cleo came outside to say good-bye and hug me.
The next day, Ginger complimented me for being so thoughtful. “You gave up the hike to go back and sit with Cleo.” I told her it was no sacrifice because hiking isn’t my thing. No matter how much I protested, she insisted I’d been nice. I even suggested she call my husband, my children, my siblings, and my mom to see if they thought my behavior had been nice. She declined the offer deprived them of a golden opportunity to rat me out.
So now Ginger thinks I’m a really nice person. So it’s a good thing I leave tomorrow. Maybe she’ll never discover that I’m a lot like the red-throated hummingbird – real flashy, but not as nice as I look.
