The truth is, I hadn't even known it was the same bird until those hospital days. Missing "the birds" at sunrise, I'd Googled Great Blue Herons from Tony's bedside and discovered they're incredibly territorial, returning to the same fishing spots day after day. The revelation stunned me—all those weeks, maybe months, I thought I'd been seeing different herons. But no. It had been him. The same one. My faithful friend I hadn't even recognized as singular until I lost him.
Tony
Making the Most of It (Hospital Edition)
I walked the floor of the ER once, and that's when I saw them—half a dozen sunrise landscapes decorating the hallways. I stood before each one, these windows to elsewhere when I couldn't get to my own pier. God had provided witness even there. Sometimes making the most of a moment means recognizing that the moment itself—even if it's spent on an ER floor looking at someone else's sunrise photos—is the gift.
The Journal Returns: A Story of Lost and Found
I actually cried when Hector told me he'd found my "book." I think God knew I would be an oft-wandering soul. That friends and loves and family members would come and go, and I would need something to anchor me, something I could rely on even when those I loved couldn't be there for me. The empty page was always waiting to take my pain or rage or joy.
Writer's Growth 