A message appears on the wings of a dove

It was a mourning dove, its name coming from its moaning "cooah, coo, coo, coo" song.

And Floyd and Betsy Rogers were mourning. Eighteen months before, their daughter Lisa died unexpectedly from a pulmonary embolism.

"We'd just gone through hell," Floyd Rogers said.

At 35 and a partner in a law firm, Lisa was a skilled rescue-level scuba diver, an internationally medaled judo competitor and marathoner.

"It's hard to tell what the cause was, but she was absolutely healthy," Floyd said.

A Warrenville native, he had earned a degree in math from Illinois Wesleyan University and worked for IBM until a short-lived retirement in 1993. Floyd and his brother Marshal would own the Butterfield Gardens center in Warrenville for the next decade. He now teaches courses at area colleges related to the use of computers, edits two newspapers for hosta societies and manages a handful of Web sites.

"Being a mathematics major, I tend to be analytical; I like to put perimeters and boundaries around things," Floyd said. "When my daughter died, that wasn't working."

Then one morning in early September 2003, he'd started to pull weeds that had sprouted since he and Betsy, Glen Ellyn residents since 1975, hosted a party to mark their 39th wedding anniversary. They are also parents of Rebecca, a Glenbard South High School graduate and anthropology professor at the University of Cape Town in South Africa.

Suddenly in the garden Floyd heard a soft fluttering of wings as a dove landed about eight feet away. He slowly straightened. The bird remained still.

He thought of Lisa, who loved birds and owned a dove for several months before letting it go.

"I remembered her holding the dove and stroking its beautiful feathers," he said.

Floyd moved slowly away, sat on a low flagstone wall and avoided eye contact.

"I tried to maintain a non-threatening attitude toward this little creature," he said.

A few minutes later, the dove walked closer to him. The two watched each other. "I was trying to believe this was really happening," he said.

Then, with Floyd holding his breath, the dove circled to his side, fluttered onto his right knee and wriggled its rear end.

"I knew what that meant: The bird was about to poop on my dirty jeans, " he recalled, "but that would give me proof of this happening."

The bird wriggled again and flew a few feet away, leaving an egg on his knee. Floyd cupped the egg in his hand as questions began filling his mind. Then the dove hopped onto his shoulder.

"I talked and she stayed there," he said. "I felt her move along my shoulder from time to time as my tears trickled. I can still feel that (movement) to this day. We watched a hummingbird molest the hostas and other birds come to the feeders and depart. But most of all, we watched the egg.

"I honestly don't know how long we sat there, more than 15 minutes but less than an hour. We were strictly in the moment."

Floyd stood up and walked toward the house. The dove stayed on his shoulder until she flew away with another dove.

At one point, the egg had rolled to the ground. A Willowbrook Wildlife Center representative said it was probably damaged, so Floyd and Betsy placed the egg in Willowbrook's butterfly garden. But its impact remains.

"Somewhere in there is a message," Floyd said. "I immediately thought that (1) Lisa was OK and (2) somebody wanted me to care for children. So without any questions, I started reacting: taking care of the homeless, people in need, children being the symbol."

To honor that message, he volunteers with the People's Resource Center and PADS.

"I'm just trying to convey my belief in what kind of God would spend the time to convey the (dove) message to me," Floyd said. "Faith is a spectrum, but this experience pushed me all the way to certainty.

"My conclusion is, 'God is love,' which is more profound than saying, like a child, "God loves you."

Floyd first told the story of the dove as he spoke to members of his church, Southminister Presbyterian, to encourage funds for a memorial garden. "This is why I'd like to put a garden in place," Floyd said, "so you can experience what I did. Gardens are places of healing.

"I already knew that," he declared, "but I didn't realize to what extent."