Today’s front page of the Boston Globe read, “A Life that Nourished Flocks, Friendships,” by Eric Moskowitz. He wrote of Dorothy, neither homeless, nameless nor purposeless. She fed the birds, inching through Cambridge in her wheelchair, doling out breadcrumbs or birdseed year ’round. “She saw beauty in every bird but especially the ones most people scorned.” Pigeons and sparrows.
To avoid curbs and hazards of city sidewalks, Dorothy chose streets. Folks who saw her shuffling her feet, pushing with her hands along the road, worried she’d get hit by a car. She did, eventually, by a hit and run driver. Last Monday,” a hearse the color of a robin’s egg” carried her almost eighty year old remains to the cemetery.
Dorothy and the birds who flocked around her became a familiar sight. A neighbor said, “The whole city will miss her.” She collected friends. I must’ve seen her on an occasional trek to Cambridge. Probably inched away, concerned about catching something. Dis-ease. Easily caught. Usually starts with a rash, breaking out in fear.
Reading her story this morning reminded me to pay attention to people and acts of kindness too small to miss. Matthew chapter six talks about heavenly tended birds. I never figured Dorothy as one of God’s caregivers.
Some days I need them.
Other days, I need to open my hands, my heart to do some God nudged act too small to miss.
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