Could...but didn't. (A bird took a walk down the street.)

(I've told it before.)

One day, it was a rainy day; I saw a bird walking down the street.

A bird, complete with wings & feathers, walked at least a full city block and a half.

I thought it was strange, in consideration of such amazing capabilities...this bird walked...with the ability to fly.

I still wonder why the bird didn't fly.

Maybe he was never encouraged to fly, and didn't know he could...

Maybe he was waiting for the right time, (the most stale of all excuses)…

Maybe he was never pushed, and became lazy...

Maybe he flew into a window, and adamantly decided to never be fooled again...

Maybe he tried to fly, but failed…and fell...

Maybe he just didn't want to fly...

Whatever the reason, this bird reasoned to not use his most enviable gift...

...Flight. 

Can you imagine? 

Flying?

Think about the time, maybe decades ago, when you dreamed of lifting off and freeing yourself from these "surly bonds,” spreading your arm-wings and soaring above cars and playgrounds and the mortals of terra firma!

No more stuck in traffic.

Your friends in utter awe.

With basketball skills to die for.

And how would you clear your mind? 

Oh...yeah...go for a little flight around the subdivision!

We wish. 

We dream. 

We fantasize. 

For this thing...this AMAZING thing...

That is the natural, innate ability...

Of a bird...

Who had the audacity...

To walk...

When he could fly.

It's enough to almost make you angry...

Plenty enough to make you wonder...

And beg the question "why?"

Why, bird?!

Right?

I saw that bird in 1998.

And I’ve lived almost fifteen years with this apparitional memory.

(Breathe for a second.)

Okay, honestly my deep concern isn't really for this unfilled feathered failure not living up to his potential.

What concerns me is the image I see here.

I'm haunted by the metaphor!

I'm haunted because I see myself...walking in the rain...afraid to fly...

Afraid to, refusing to, use that thing so bestowed upon me, others strain to restrain their envy.

And still I think of a thousand excuses…

I realize a thousand fears…

I focus on a handful of discouragers…(instead of the thousand of you who encourage.)

I know I can fly.

For me, my wings are words.

Spoken, written, crafted together.

In my gift of being a word-crafter, I HAVE THE SUPERHUMAN ABILITY OF FLIGHT.

I know this. It's what is true of me.

It is my delight and joy.

It is the means to my passion.

It is the means to my dream.

It is the means to my calling.

It is the manifestation of my calling.

It IS my calling.

It is the breath my Daddy uses, to breathe life into this pile of dust, held in Divinity's palm.

It is my brick in this eternal building.

With the haunting memory of that bird's walk, and his un-utilized gift…

I allegorically step to the edge…

Spread my arms,

And kick fear and denial where it hurts!

It's what I must do, to do what I must do!

I HAVE TO LIVE, FULLY ALIVE!

And so now I'm asking you…

With bitter tears and a fear of making you feel judged…

But an even greater desire to see you live FULL…FULFILLED.

Why are you walking…beautiful bird?