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Found in Peace Plaza—a block from the world's iconic Mayo Clinic, once my bookstore's home—baby starling Allie looked doomed: dusty, flightless, no parents as the alley faced bulldozers at dawn. Her first words in plain English? "My head hurts." I never taught her that. Allergic to birds and warned by all, I scooped her up anyway. My husband asked, "What now?" I shrugged, eyeing her plain gray feathers soon to shimmer like God-designed diamonds: "God will figure it out."

That was four years ago. Tonight, as she demands, "Where's Allie's cookies? Allie's special," she turns and says, "You're special." That teen hoops encounter with a wayward starling? Foreshadowing to pay attention—one day, a bird would enter my life. Looking back, it all makes sense. From there to syndicated comics, children's stories, Prayer Pets, Valentine adventures, and best-selling art, we've flown together spreading His messages. This is our real bond: hated species to holy voice, rescuer and rescued, defying odds into empire.