The Universe Has a Wicked Sense of Humor

Some mornings the Universe whispers.

Other mornings, it gently nudges.

And then there are mornings when it apparently recruits an entire cast of woodland creatures and says, “Right. She’s still not getting it. Release the birds, amphibians, and snake.”

That was my morning. It was one of those sticky, hot, humid mornings where simply existing feels like cardio. I’d just finished giving our desperately thirsty gardens a good soaking and wandered into the barn to put the hose away.

That’s when I realized…

Swallow Flight School was in session. Parents zipped effortlessly through the barn. Siblings swooped, dipped, and showed off like overconfident teenagers who’d just passed their driver’s test.

And then there was one little swallow.
Frozen.
Perched on a wire beside the nest, puffed up into an adorable feather-ball of anxiety.
Its expression—if birds can have expressions—was unmistakable.

“Nope.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Flying seems like an unnecessary risk.”

Meanwhile, everyone else was thinking, Come on! You were literally born for this.

I stood there longer than I planned, feeling every ounce of that little bird’s hesitation.

Can I really do this?
Is today the day?
What if I fall?
It wasn’t hard to recognize that energy.
I’ve worn those feathers before.

Eventually, I wandered back inside, made myself a cuppa tea, grabbed my journal, and settled onto the deck with the lofty intention of watching the world go by.

Because clearly I’d already received today’s lesson.
Right?
Ohhhh, or so I thought…
As I lowered myself into my chair, I noticed a tiny tree frog clinging to the siding beside me.

Tiny.

Still.

Perfectly content.

It didn’t seem remotely bothered that a giant human had plopped herself less than a foot away.

We simply existed together.

I found myself wondering if the little thing was okay.

And that’s precisely when the Universe yelled…

“PLOT TWIST!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement.

A snake.

Slithering surprisingly quickly toward my chair.

Let’s just say my nervous system expressed itself before my conscious mind had a chance to weigh in.

I jumped.

The frog launched itself off the wall like an Olympic high diver.

The snake promptly changed its mind and disappeared to lounge on an old brick tucked under the flower stand.

Silence returned.

Except for my heart, which was now auditioning to become a hummingbird.

Now, could all of this simply be nature doing what nature does? Of course.

But I’ve learned that meaning isn’t always found in proving something is a sign.

Sometimes it’s found in noticing what rises inside us when it happens.

Because each little visitor carried a message.

The Swallow

Swallows symbolize hope, courage, freedom, trust, and returning home to yourself.

That timid youngster reminded me that courage doesn’t look fearless.

Sometimes courage looks like sitting on the wire a little longer than everyone else.

Other times, it looks like trembling before the leap.

The important part isn’t how graceful your takeoff is.

It’s remembering that you were built with wings.

The Tree Frog

Tree frogs are little masters of transformation, adaptability, and intuition.

They remind us to stay grounded while remaining flexible enough to leap when life asks us to.

Unlike me, the frog didn’t spend energy worrying about what might happen.

It simply stayed present until it was time to move.

There’s wisdom in that.

The Snake

Ahhh, yes.

The creature that tends to make humans either squeal or wax poetic.

Spiritually, snakes symbolize transformation, shedding old skin, healing, renewal, and profound change.

They don’t apologize for growing.

They simply outgrow what no longer fits.

Interestingly, the snake didn’t chase me.

It wasn’t interested in me at all.

It was simply moving through its own journey until my startled leap changed everyone’s plans.

Isn’t that true of so many fears?

Sometimes what we’re reacting to isn’t actually coming for us.

It’s simply crossing our path.

By the time I finished my tea, I couldn’t help laughing.

Not because the morning hadn’t startled me.

But because the Universe has impeccable comedic timing.

Apparently, one messenger wasn’t enough.

First, it sent me a bird questioning whether it could trust its wings.
Then a frog reminds me to stay present and leap when it’s time.
Finally, a snake shows up to whisper, “It’s time to shed something you’ve outgrown.”

At this point, I was half expecting a butterfly to land on my notebook carrying a tiny banner that read:

“ARE YOU PAYING ATTENTION YET?”

Thankfully, it spared me that level of obviousness.

Although … I’m not entirely convinced.

Here’s what I’m taking away from my unexpected wildlife retreat.

When you’re standing on the edge of something new…
Trust your wings.

When life asks you to adapt…
Stay present until it’s time to leap.

And when old fears or old versions of yourself start feeling a bit too snug…
Maybe it’s time to shed the skin instead of squeezing back into it.

The Universe rarely wastes a good metaphor.

And if you happen to miss the first one … don’t worry.

It has excellent backup dancers.