The other morning I took my dogs outside to run through our backyard.  As soon as I opened the door, Bruno started chasing this little bird.  It hopped away just enough to get out of Bruno’s reach.  Poor little thing was just a baby bird!  A baby bird that had not yet figured out how to use its wings.

The next morning when I opened the door the little bird was in our backyard again.  Bruno chased it again until it just barely jumped/flew into the fence.  It burrowed into the vines growing on the fence.  Nearby was some incessant squawking and I realize the mother bird was nearby in a tree watching over their little babe.  I played with my dogs outside and checked on the fence a few times.  The baby bird continued to sit there pressed against the fence practically trembling just waiting for its mommy who continued to hover nearby.  Helicopter mom for sure.

Super simple image of nature.  I thought about this bird duo and my heart “fluttered” (heh).  I thought how precious was their relationship and their trust.  The baby was waiting to see its mother again to know he was safe.  Was waiting to be in his mother’s embrace before he could leap again.  Waiting patiently for the one he trusted and needed most.  Waiting because he knew his mom would be his saving grace. I thought how precious it was and wondered if my relationship with my caterpillar will look like this, and wondered even more so if my relationship with God was in any way similar.  Do I wait upon God?  Do I rely solely on Him and His nearness?  Do I show my unabashed trust in my Maker?

But the more I considered this the more I realized… no.  And no I don’t want my relationship with my little one to look like this.  Even more so, I don’t believe that’s the relationship my God is looking for with me.  Yes it sounds sweet and trusting, but my reading of scripture shows a God who empowers and releases.  A God who seeks out not just trust in His nearness, but faith in His everlasting presence.  A relationship that waits patiently, yes of course, but also goes forth in obedience.  A relationship not driven by fear but embraces risk and *gasp* mistakes because of that trust.  So no, I don’t want my relationship with my little guy to look like this bird and his mama. I want my little one to be courageous and bold and explore. I don’t want to be a mother that hovers so closely that my anxiety overflows into my little one.  I see toddlers who aren’t afraid to jump and run and even touch things they shouldn’t because they have not yet learned fear.  And I refuse to have my relationship with God look like this either.  I no longer want to be driven by fear.  I don’t want to live in this world believing that if I cannot SEE God, then I’m deserted.  I don’t want to live as if I have been or could be abandoned anymore.  I don’t want my patience to be an un-sanctified patience that is truly driven out of my anxiety to move forward.

Instead I’m choosing to live in courage.  To trust in Him whom I have seen and heard and will cling to the promises, old and new.  To trust His constant nearness.  To march forth, take risks, embrace mistakes and even failures knowing that I’m not defined by my fallings and failings.  Because like I said… I am learning to fly again.  Because I have wings, I’ve always had them.  I’m just remembering now how to use them again.

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