The loud, constant “chirp” causes me to set down my pen and look up at the birdfeeder. He’s back, and today he’s brought his girlfriend along for the free, all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet.

They sit on the fence, and then he swoops down to see what the other birds have dropped from the feeder. He pecks the ground for a little while, seeming to be shopping for the choicest tidbit he can find. She waits patiently until he returns with treats for her. Beak to beak, she receives the gift her sweetheart has procured for her.

Suddenly, red wings flutter, followed by her brown wings, and they’re gone. I pause, inhale, and exhale a prayer: “Today is a new day. I start from here. Lord, thank You for the reminder.” I turn back and pick up the pen, getting back to the train of thought my beloved cardinals have interrupted.

What is it about those redbirds that we all seem to love so much? Lots of people take the appearance of a cardinal as a sign of comfort from God after the loss of a loved one. Some think it’s sweet that cardinal couples are monogamous, and like the two birds on my fence, when the male transfers the seed he’s gathered from the ground for his special lady friend, they appear to kiss. My cardinal connection is a little different from either of those, though.

Many years ago, I was sitting with the Lord, crying tears of regret and anger. I had been making decisions about a very personal situation for almost 20 years, and after a long emotional investment with very few dividends, I felt as though I’d wasted all of my time and effort. As I conferenced with God that afternoon, the demanding vocals and bright red wings of a male cardinal practically demanded my attention. He proceeded to settle into a nearby oak tree, bouncing among the branches, but staying very near. I cried, prayed, journaled, and cried some more – struggling to arrive at next steps, what to keep, and what to toss. And my little buddy patiently sat in that oak tree, occasionally reminding me that he was still with me. After quite a while, I was worn out and weary from the fight. Then I sensed the Lord’s direction, as if He were saying, “Let it go. Get up each morning and start fresh. You can’t change one single thing that’s already happened, but you can walk into the promise of a new day. And you can’t take hold of today if your hands are full of yesterday. Let. It. Go.”

A flood of peace seemed to wash away the regret and anger. I looked up from my journal, and almost as if he knew the battle was over, my faithful new friend gave a final chirp good-bye and flew away.

I have three feeders in my backyard. Every time I hear that distinctive cardinal greeting, I drop what I’m doing, head for a window to get a look, and say a prayer of thanks for the blank slate God’s handed me. He gives me so many wonderful, personal gifts, but that daily visit from my little bird buddy is especially precious to me. And God knows that.

God has something special for you, too. Open your eyes to His wonder, and let His love and mercy melt away your regrets. Take a deep, long drink from His goodness and gentleness, and start over. It’s a new day.

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.” – Lamentations 3:22-23

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” – Isaiah 43:18-19