A Mother’s Gift

One of the things I’ve learned over the years is to pay attention. 

Not because I think every moment carries a hidden meaning, but because every now and then something catches my attention and simply won’t let go.

I’ve learned not to rush past those moments.

Instead, I become curious.

This time, it began with a bear.

While we were staying in Black Mountain, I went for a drive by myself one afternoon.

As I slowly made my way up one of the winding mountain roads, a black bear stepped out in front of me.

It wasn’t in a hurry.

It looked directly at me for a moment.

Then it calmly crossed the road and began climbing.

Straight up the mountainside.

I sat there in complete awe.

I’d never seen a bear in the wild before.

Later that evening, I found myself reading about bears. 

One characteristic surfaced over and over again.

A mother bear is fiercely protective of her cubs.

I smiled, tucked that thought away, and continued enjoying our trip.

A few days after we returned home, another unexpected visitor appeared.

A young quail.

Not a tiny baby.

Just old enough to be out of the nest, yet obviously too young to be on its own.

There was no mother nearby.

No father.

Just this little bird, quietly hunkered down in our yard.

Every now and then I’d peek outside to check on it. 

We have a neighborhood wildcat that wanders through, and before I even realized it, my protective instincts had taken over.

That evening, the quail settled itself against the side of our house to sleep.

Out of all the places it could have gone, it somehow found its way to our home.

The next morning it had moved onto our front porch.

I placed a small dish of water nearby and contacted Holly’s Nest Animal Rescue.

After sending them a few pictures, they encouraged me to bring it in.

As I gently placed the quail into a box and started driving, I noticed tears welling up in my eyes.

At first, I couldn’t explain why.

Then I realized…

My heart wasn’t breaking because of the quail.

It was thinking about Shia, our non-speaking autistic son. 

For some time now, God has been quietly preparing my heart to think about something every parent hopes they never have to think about.

Not from fear.

From love.

What would someone need to know if Tim and I weren’t here one day?

Not just his routines.

Not just what he likes to eat.

But him.

The way he communicates without words.

The tiny changes in his expression.

The things that bring him peace.

The things that overwhelm him.

The thousands of little things that only a mother notices after almost sixteen years of paying attention.

When I arrived at Holly’s Nest, Byron greeted me with such kindness.

As we talked about the young quail, he smiled and said something I’ll never forget.

“The only expert is the young quail’s mother.”

Then he added,

“I’m not the expert.”

The tears came instantly.

Because in that moment, something shifted inside me.

I’m Shia’s expert.

Not because I know everything.

But because I’m his mom.

Then another realization quietly followed.

Byron wasn’t the quail’s mother either.

And yet…

that little bird had been welcomed into a place filled with compassion, patience, gentleness, and people who had devoted their lives to caring for vulnerable animals that weren’t their own.

The quail wasn’t with its mother.

But it was exactly where it needed to be.

Standing there, I felt something loosen inside my heart.

The bear had awakened the fierce love of a mother.

The young quail gently taught me something just as important.

Love also prepares.

Not by imagining every worst-case scenario…

but by leaving behind the best of what we’ve learned.

As I drove home that morning, I knew exactly what I was supposed to write next.

Not another Breadcrumb.

A gift.

A place to gather everything I’ve learned about Shia over the years.

The things that bring him comfort.

The things that help him feel safe.

The things that make him laugh.

The things no checklist could ever fully capture.

Not because I expect someone else to raise him.

Not because I expect to be gone.

But because love prepares.

One day, if these pages are ever needed, they won’t simply tell someone how to care for Shia.

They’ll help them know him.

As I thought back over the past ten days, I smiled.

A bear quietly climbing a mountain.

A young quail finding rest beside our home.

A conversation I never could have planned.

None of it felt random anymore.

God had been preparing my heart all along.

Not for fear.

For peace.

Not for worry.

For wisdom.

Not to hold on tighter…

but to leave behind a gift that only I can give.

Maybe that’s what breadcrumbs do.

They don’t always explain the whole journey.

Sometimes they simply reveal the next faithful step.

Today, mine is to write a Mother’s Gift. 

~~~~~~~

Part of the Breadcrumbs collection by Abby Lewis—true stories that gently invite us into a different way to live.

Continue reading: Bringing Peace to His Storm — Every child has a language. Sometimes love begins when we slow down enough to learn it.