High under the arch of the front entry there is a bird nest mounted. It is a mass of mud, grass and sticks. That nest has existed there for 15 years. It is the home of swallows.

Our house was built fifteen years ago just off set from a golf course. There wasn’t much surrounding the area. No major thorough fair, minimal housing, and lots of vegetation. It seemed like a home in the country all while still in the city. That was the draw to the area. Still today there are a minimal amount of homes upon our cul-de-sac and thankfully we still have a wilderness terrain just outside of our backyard. Meanwhile, there are homes, roads and business popping up everywhere. We live one road off of from a golfing fairway. Simply, it is very quiet but vastly populated. So, very shortly after our home was built a family of swallows decided to join us in setting up their home. I suppose many might think to tear down that unattractive blob of mud strategically placed in the crevices of mortar and brick just off set above the entry of our front door. But, for us, it was a blessing. Therefore we let them embark upon building their humble abode.

It is just a few weeks into summer and we have baby chicks poking their heads above the nest. The mother bird spent several weeks nesting while we waited anxiously for the arrival of the babies. So, this year we are proud to say we have triplets.

The intrigue for me of the swallow bird is how they fly and dive in a rhythmic pattern that seems choreographed by the best of dance instructors. Every evening the Mom and Pop will take flight and dive around the neighborhood. They gather food and gracefully bring it back to their little ones. It is hypnotizing to watch. Yet it somehow is differently the same every time. More so is the moment in which it is time for the babies to leave the nest. Each season upon the time that the babies make the launch into the world it is like all the swallows appear to cheer them on. Those babies will spread their wings and fly, dip and dive, and soar to greatness. In the same moment, fifty plus swallows seem to appear and mimic the flying pattern of those new swallow birds flying for the first time. It is breath taking to sit and observe. All the birds fly in unison to protect or camouflage the ones that are new. We always wonder how do they know to come back and be a part of this expedition. Where do they go when they leave? Is it the same family lineage that returns each year? How long do they live? Not that it matters factually to us, but it is curious and leaves us with much to ponder. And, we love the blessing they bring us.

So as we await the flight of the swallows this year I think about how this year has brought much change to our household. I think how we might be like those birds. Thought about how there are times that not all the eggs survive…some are knocked out of the nest by mocking birds or blue jays. Sometimes, we have five or six babies. Once we had only one. Yet each year swallow birds return and do it all again. They use the same nest. Each year there is a flight of the swallows.

What this has to do with care giving to a stroke survivor likely is nothing. Although, there is always much hope in the arrival of swallows, there is anticipation in their soon to be flight, and there is a sense of security we provide for the birds that fill us with much gladness. The swallow flight certainly can be compared to the recovery journey for the stroke survivor. Some how this scenario suggests there is hope to my stroke survivor that like the swallows that returned this year to nurture newness of life on to the moment of flight he too can fly with a newness of life. He can in his return or recovery do what he once did only differently similar to that which he did before. Mostly, those swallows reflect the support system that comes with each new member to the stroke environment.

So as I watch the flight of the swallows this year I will think on my journey of a caregiver. I will continue this year like the swallows and gather the needs for my stroke survivor all to feed him in to growth. Along the way, I like the swallows, will dip and dive and hope. I will soar my stroke survivor to greatness. And as those swallows gather to leave the nest for this year I will offer up prayers and thankfulness that I have gained a survivor support network for myself and for my stroke survivor.