Helpless in the Snow

by Donna Poole

dedicated to all my friends who have received difficult news lately and to one dear friend in particular

I’m one tough bird; just ask my mate! I’m a northern cardinal and live in Wisconsin. Surviving these harsh, frigid winters with below zero wind chills and frequent snowstorms isn’t for the faint of heart! I’m used to below zero temperatures in December, January, and February. I must keep my body temperature between 105—108 degrees Fahrenheit to survive. I fluff my feathers and tense my muscles and shiver to stay warm. I can even drop my body temperature a few degrees to survive. My Maker taught me to seek shelter in pine trees, and people often see the brilliant red flash of my mate against the pines in our nesting area.

The other day I left the shelter of the pine where I was cuddling with my mate and flew off to explore. It was lightly snowing but a balmy twenty degrees, so I felt quite warm. I missed my mate; he wanted to sleep in that day, but my Maker is always with me, so I’m never lonely.

I blinked to clear my vision. Surely that couldn’t be what I thought it was, a woman lying in the snow without even a coat or a blanket!

“Maker! Do you see that? Why is she alone; has she no mate? And why is she crying?”

“Her mate died suddenly a few years ago. She’s crying because she just got some very bad news.”

“She shouldn’t be alone! She’ll get sick, lying out here in the snow in the freezing cold. Has she no friends?”

“She is very sick already, the kind of sick that has no recovery. And she has many friends.”

“Why aren’t they here with her? Isn’t that what friends are for?”

“Little Cardinal, will you fly back in time with me? I want to show you something.”

“No, I won’t go with you. I don’t want to leave her alone like this.”

“She won’t be alone. I will be with her.”

“But, Maker, you just said you’d be taking me back in time.”

“I am everywhere. I am in what you call past, present, and future. It is all now to me. I hold it in the palm of my hand.”

I looked at Maker. I had no idea what he was saying but gathered he could somehow be back in time with me, and here with the poor broken woman. I didn’t want to leave her, but what could be so important that Maker wanted me to go?

“Okay, I’ll go with you if it won’t take too long.”

Maker laughed. It sounded like thunder, or waterfalls, or like music coming out of a great cathedral my grandfather told me he’d once heard.

“It will take less than what you call a minute.”

Suddenly we were at a pit, a hole in the ground. I peered down into it and saw an emaciated man sunk in mud up to his waist. His eyes had the glaze of a dying man. He looked reproachfully at Maker, but he said nothing; he didn’t even cry out for help.

“Who is he, Maker? Why is he in that horrible pit?”

“His name is Jeremiah. Wicked men threw him in that pit for preaching the words I told him to say.”

“And you let this happen to him! Why?”

“I would gladly explain, little cardinal, if you could understand. But watch. I brought you here to see something.” He nodded and I looked.

A group of men hurried to the pit. They hollered down, “Jeremiah, we’re throwing down a rope. Put it under your arms so we can pull you up. Pad your arm pits with these old rags we’re sending down, so the rope won’t hurt.”

“That’s what real friends do,” Maker said to me. “They came to rescue him and thought of everything possible for his comfort.”

Suddenly, we were back in the snow. The light snow that had been falling earlier had become a storm now. The woman wasn’t crying anymore, but a tear had frozen on her pale cheek. Her lips and eyelids had turned a pale blue. I knew she was alive though, because she was shivering, the way I do to bring my body temperature up.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it, Maker? She’ll be alright now that she’s shivering.”

He shook his head. “She is getting hypothermia. She will die alone here in the snow if a friend doesn’t come.”

“I don’t understand. You said she has many friends. Why don’t they come help her like Jeremiah’s friends did him?”

“It’s easier to come when you can actually do something to help. Her friends can’t change her diagnosis. They can’t pull her out of her pit. They can’t bring her mate back. They can’t change the fact the time she has left will be very painful for her. They feel helpless and uncomfortable, not knowing what to say or do. They have no idea how much she needs them now. So, they stay away when they could do something to help her today.”

“All of them? Won’t even one come?”

“Watch and see.”

I sat near my Maker, and he sat close to the woman, giving her warmth and comfort she knew nothing of.

Time passed, and I heard footsteps in the snow.

“Emilia, honey, do you want to talk?”

The woman shook her head and sat up. “Talking is the last thing I feel like doing. Go home, Kathryn.”

Kathryn was carrying a thermos and a thick quilt. She poured steaming tea from the thermos, and Emilia drank. She wrapped the quilt around Emilia and tucked her in until every inch of skin was covered.  

Kathryn sat in the snow next to Emilia and put her arms around her. She didn’t say a word to her. She just looked at the Maker, and he nodded and smiled at her. I think they were talking silently about Emilia. After a while, Emilia put her head on her friend’s shoulder and slept.

“Go home and back to your mate,” Maker said to me. “Cuddle and enjoy every minute I give to you. Your time will come too, as it has for Emilia. You will count yourself blessed then if you have even one friend who knows how to just suffer silently with you in the snow and pray.”

“But…will they be alright? Emilia and her friend?”

“They will both be more than alright. Their friendship will deepen here and continue forever.”

Cardinals don’t cry, but I hid my head in my wing for a minute.

“Master, when my time comes, will you sit next to me in the snow?”

“You do know who sits beside the dying sparrow, don’t you?”

And then he laughed his beautiful laugh again, Emilia’s friend heard it; her eyes filled with tears, and she smiled a grateful smile. Emilia woke; Kathryn helped her to her feet, and they walked back through the woods to a little house.

I don’t know what happened after that.

I flew home and talked to my mate about how Maker holds past, present, and future in his hand, and how he doesn’t let any of his children suffer alone in the storm. We cuddled and fell asleep counting our blessings, fearing nothing, not the cold, not the storm, and not our time to die in the snow.