The Rescued Bird

I am not sure if I ever would have thought of her again. I am not sure what brought her to the fore of my mind once more. But thinking about the old kindly nun that left an impression on me one day in Kindergarten certainly explained something important to me. When I was growing up in Beveren, in the West Flemish part of Belgium, I attended their small parochial school until 4th grade. The vast majority of the teachers were nuns, all dressed in the traditional Catholic black and white long gowns, complete with the full head dress. It was an imposing uniform, that really did make them look like very tall penguins. One nun in particular, in the second grade, was very intimidating and had a way of slapping her students across the face if they did something she did not approve of. At the time, in a small Flemish village in the early 1960's, that was considered acceptable and no parents complained or even objected. This particular nun smacked me because I was writing with my left hand, considered the hand of the devil. Her big hand burned its big slap on my red cheek and in my memory. Fortunately, she was an exception. The nun I want to talk about was a tiny, kindly woman who tended the kitchen  that was attached to the small school. One day I was not feeling well and I was sent to the kitchen to relax for a while. I got to sit down on a chair and watch the kindly nun make bread. The kitchen had a large window that was left open to let in fresh air as it was summer and very warm. A small bird flew in the window and then sat rather wobbily on the windowsill, looking dazed and exhausted. The nun gently scooped up the small bird, and held it in her hands and quietly talked to it. The bird was shivering, so she held it close to the warm oven for a few minutes. The bird relaxed, and after it seemed recovered, the nun carefully put it back on the windowsill. It sat there for a few minutes, chirped what seemed a " thank you ", and flew off. The nun had this kind smile, and after she gave me a small cookie and a small glass of milk, she walked me back to my Kindergarten room. I have thought of her off and on, over the many years, never for very long, just a glimpse of the past, a moment in childhood. But I started thinking of her again when I bought a new small birdbath for our backyard. I have loved feeding our backyard birds for nearly 30 years now, and I always make sure they have access to fresh, clean water on hot summerdays, on a small table in the shade of the orchard under the tall cherry tree. It had never really ocurred to me that perhaps the kindness of an old, sweet kitchen nun when I was in Kindergarten instilled in me a kindness and respect for birds. Perhaps we all are capable of such moments and habits of kindness that leave an impression and in turn inspire someone to take the time to be kind as well. Kindness is the highest wisdom. Socrates thought so. It seems still very relevant today, perhaps especially today, in a world that is threatening to tear itself apart because it has gotten bored with kindness.