When the Messenger Flies In

"The Messenger" Red House Finch, North Richland Hills, Texas

I opened my door to announce to the world, “It is Spring,” and was immediately greeted by a bird flying straight at me—through my hair and into my apartment. An intrusive little thing, and at first, an irritant. My instinct was quick and practical: grab a broom and sweep it back outside where it belonged.

But then I paused.

Instead of reacting, I found myself wondering—what if this moment held meaning? What if this unexpected interruption was, in some way, a messenger? What might I need to hear today?

It turned out to be a red house wren. As I later reflected, I learned that wrens are often associated with joy and optimism, adaptability and freedom, resilience and encouragement, harmony and community, even spiritual protection. Whether you see that symbolically, spiritually, or simply as a poetic lens, it shifted something in me. What I first experienced as an intrusion became an invitation.

Life often feels like that moment.

Things come at us quickly and unexpectedly—through the people in our lives, shifting circumstances, the constant noise of the news cycle, and the ever-present pull of social media. We are inundated with messages, many of them heavy, urgent, or discouraging.

Over time, it can become difficult to see the good, to feel grounded, or to respond thoughtfully instead of reactively.

Our natural tendency is to “grab the broom”—to push discomfort away, to control what feels chaotic, to restore order as quickly as possible. And sometimes, that response is necessary. But not always.

Sometimes, there is value in the pause.

In that space between reaction and response, we create room for reflection. We begin to ask different questions—not just “How do I fix this?” but “What might this be showing me?” or “Is there something here I’m meant to notice, learn, or understand more deeply?”

This is not about minimizing pain or pretending that all disruptions are positive. Some experiences are genuinely difficult, disorienting, or even painful. But even within those moments, there can be opportunities for awareness, growth, and meaning—if we are willing to slow down long enough to look.

In my work, I often sit with people in the middle of their own “intrusive moments”—life transitions, relational struggles, trauma, loss, or unexpected change. These experiences rarely feel like gifts when they first arrive. They feel overwhelming, confusing, and unwelcome.

And yet, with time, support, and reflection, many people begin to uncover something within those experiences: clarity, strength, resilience, deeper connection, or a renewed sense of purpose. Not because the hardship was desired, but because they allowed themselves to engage with it differently.

The goal is not to welcome every disruption with open arms. That’s neither realistic nor healthy. The goal is to develop the capacity to pause, to become curious, and to remain open to the possibility that even unwelcome moments can carry meaning.

So today, I invite you to notice.

Be aware of the unexpected moments that enter your day—the interruptions, the conversations, the encounters that catch you off guard. Before you immediately push them away, take a breath and ask: Is there something here for me?

Your “messenger” may not come with feathers and wings. It may come through a conversation, a challenge, a moment of discomfort, or even a quiet realization.

The question is not just what showed up—but what you choose to see in it.

What was your messenger today? What did it say? And what, if anything, did you learn?