Sunday, May 29, 2011
please feed me, then teach me to fly
I had been trying for weeks to capture the sight of momma bird feeding her nearby young'un from the suet & seed cake dangling outside my office window... and I can now edit my post from "couldn't do it" to "here's a cropped shot for you!" Thank You, God!
I can tell when they're close by, now recognizing the insistent cries of the young, "FEED ME, MOMMY!!" As well the titmice & chickadees in particular do this little wing flutter as they beg. It's hilarious. Me me me! Now now now! I'm HUNGRY!
What's odd is that both parent and offspring are exactly the same size. Were it not for the dance of relationship, I could not tell the difference between the two. They LOOK grown up enough to fend for themselves, but they keep cheep-cheeping and mom (I presume - could be dad!) keeps bringing over her full beak and stuffing it into the eager mouth.
Looks can be deceiving. I'm not enough of a birder to know when the parent will finally chirp, "Hey! You're on your own, kiddo. Do it."
It's a gift when a parent will care and it's a gift when a parent insists that it's time to grow UP.
God leads me to more and more surrender, which trims the frayed lines of my self will and, with irony and grace, finds me growing in the greater strength that comes from His indwelling Holy Spirit. When I throw back my shoulders and proclaim, "I can do it myself!" (or some cartoon variation .... you've heard the old joke: What's the last thing a redneck says before s/he dies? "Hey y'all, Watch this!"), I am learning to discern between God's empowerment and the rising tension when I huff 'n puff 'n go screaming into my next great idea. I have a lifetime of practice in the latter (gushing self will) and am learning the nuances of praying for the former - surrender to God's most gracious Spirit, Will, grace, guidance and empowerment.
When I was in flight training in the early 1990's, I just 'knew' that there was liberation on the other side of my terrors doing stalls, particularly power-on stalls. (For non-pilots, that's when you raise the nose of an airplane, reduce its speed and make it stop flying. You need to be really REALLY fast getting out of that one). "If I can only do this over and over and OVER again, someday I'll stop being so afraid." My heart would threaten to burst out of my chest every time. I'd keep doing it, hyperventilate, and dream on.
I no longer fly. Yes, I miss it. I never got over the fear of stalls. God was not a core part of my BEING. Stretch with me here for a moment: If God HAD guided me to BE a pilot, I wholeheartedly believe that with prayer the fears would have melted away.
More and more today, even when the dark side throws in taunts of any variety - my health of course is a ready mark - and I notice the restriction in my mind and heart, I begin to PRAY my way THROUGH it. My anxiety-prone neuroses begin to melt. Really! Is this cool or what?
A week from tomorrow I'll be heading up I-5 to Gig Harbor for Round Two of naturopathic immune-building work. I am SO EXCITED about this trip! My last post has all the juicy links. And today.... today.... I give happy thanks to God.