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#fly

George, my little, green Quaker Parrot “puppy,” is learning how to fly. Awkwardly. It makes me smile watching him try to muster the courage to push off his cage out into the great unknown dressed in familiar. I call to him and encourage him. “You can do it, George.”


I can tell that he wants to do it so much, just jump off and fly. George has moments of utter determination, and then in an instance, he’ll turn completely around, climb up on his branch, reassess, look at all the angles of the space: Where was I planning to land again? Is that big bald guy with glasses really going to help me if I flame out into a crash landing? Okay, okay, let’s go. I’ll try it one more time.


Again, back out George marches onto the top of his bird cage to the very corner of its edge and leans forward over, beginning to aim. He pulls his wings back and up. His beak is pointed out toward his destination somewhere beyond. A shiny green jet is ready to launch.


And I never know what will happen. I wait. I smile. I laugh. I say, “I know you can do it, George.” Whatever happens, wherever he goes, I will be there to catch him if he falls.


God is a lot like that to me.





Love,

Chad

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