Make Me a Bird

tumblr_mt5b1cmH0q1rbv0tfo1_500“Dear God, Make me a bird so I can fly far, far away from here.” It’s my favorite part of the movie Forrest Gump. A young Jenny is hiding in a cornfield and she draws Forrest down onto his knees next to her and these are the words that frame the movie, these words and that feather floating in the bluest of skies. It resonates with me… the hiding in a cornfield. Been there, done that. Indiana has lots of cornfields and the one next to the house is just as good as any for getting lost in, for hiding in, for dreaming in. Because sometimes you just need to get away. And kneel. And dream that the tassels whispering in the wind are the soul-quenching love notes of a God who knows you and feels along with you the pain in your heart.

 

My kids have an unquenchable desire to fly. Little Miss is outgrowing her desire somewhat as age and experience jade her sense of limitless possibilities. But she spent a year or more in fairy wings and ballet tutus ever sure that one of these days those wings would find the magic necessary to lift her off the ground. And Camo Kid, well, he’s still in dragon wings and may never outgrow his desire. When asked what he wants to be when he grows up he says, “A fighter pilot.” Daily, he concocts plans for jet packs and flying ships and personal wings. And when Little Miss steps in with her “reality check,” I shush because really, who wants to live in a world where flight isn’t possible.

 

Maybe these kids inherited it from me. When they ask to add to our menagerie a pet bird, I am offended. Clip the wings? Cage the bird? Stop the flight? How inhumane. How anti-nature. Let the birds soar. Let the birds be free.

 

Hiking this morning, I was startled as I came around a bend in the path by a flock of pigeons rising out of an oak tree. The rising sun painted their breasts a peachy-pink and the blue morning sky accentuated their soaring outlines. I startled them. They startled me. And in that moment of watching their freedom, I uttered a prayer like Jenny’s. Dear God, make me fear-free like the birds. Help me to soar on wings like they do, above the fray, in the blue, with the rising sun touching wing-tip.unnamed-29 unnamed-27 unnamed-26 unnamed-31 unnamed-33 unnamed-30

 

And Jesus’ words in Matthew flashed across my mind: Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? (Matthew 6:26)

 

On the dawn of this new year, I look forward knowing that a year from now I won’t be the same person, living the same life. Things are going to happen. People, places, circumstances are going to change. And that knowledge brings with it fears. I don’t like the unknown anymore than the next guy… maybe even less.

 

And I touch my cross, the one that hangs from my neck, the one with these words: But those who wait on the Lord
 Shall renew their strength;
 They shall mount up with wings like eagles,
 They shall run and not be weary, 
They shall walk and not faint. (Isaiah 40:31)

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These life words. These words of prayer… Lord, make it so. Because I’m the man in Mark 9:24 crying out, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!” I want to believe that I am of more value than the birds in God’s economy. I want to believe that my running will be swift and stron, and that despite the pounding in my heart and brain, I will not faint.

 

I don’t need to fly far, far away. But I do need to fall on my knees and pray. Over and over again. Because in the praying that it be so, I will find my wings. Lord, let it be so. Help my unbelief.

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