My Wings


Photo by Alex Wigan on Unsplash.

9:30 PM – October 8, 2015

Too old to be a child, too young to be an adult.

I sat in the middle of the bathtub, letting the water from above shower my head and my back.

I just sat there thinking… I remembered Isaiah 40:31


But those who wait on the Lord

Shall renew their strength;

They shall mount up with wings like


They shall run and not be weary,

They shall walk and not be faint.

Then I began to pray, I said, “God, I feel like a bird locked in a cage. Like my wings are bound and clipped. God, give me wings! I want to fly, I want to see the expanse of the earth below me. Take me to new heights. Sustain my wings with your hand. I want to fly with wings like eagles!”

Then I remembered the cave window, and the tight space I had to go through just before I was welcomed by the great expanse of the cave’s mouth.The beauty of the nature below looked like a painting as I remembered it in my mind’s eye, and I said to God, “If I had wings I would have flown out.”

Then something in my thoughts said, “no you wouldn’t. You’d be too afraid.”

And I said, “Lord, give me wings to fly because you have not given me the spirit of fear but of power, love and a sound mind.”

Then I said, “But God, I don’t want to fly alone. If you must, teach me how to fly first, but allow me to fly with my husband, with my lovebird.

My eyes were closed, and I wept as the water from above showered my bare back. I felt as if the room was spinning, but when I opened my eyes, I felt a surreal kind of peace.

I knew God heard my prayer and that he would give me wings.

Quiet Observer


Photo by Siddharth Bhogra on Unsplash.

So I’m at the library doing homework because there’s no Wi-Fi at home. I already finished what I needed to do, but I’m more intrigued by whats happening in front of me. There’s is a young Asian girl of about fifteen or sixteen years old sitting in the table across from me. She seems to be doing homework but from what I can observe she’s learning arithmetic. However, she’s not alone. She’s dependent on an elderly man who tutors her. She’s like a small child in her comprehension, and the old man sighs with exasperation at her childlike understanding, but I like to imagine that he feels useful to her.


There’s a complex story in front of me that I will probably never know about. Maybe an immigrant girl’s future, and a native old man of these Great States, who’s lived so much and willing to give to her that gift. The gift of inspiration and education. The gift of encouragement to take advantage of life and to make something of herself! A gift that many young people with the privilege take for granted today.

Who knows what will become of them both. Sometimes I feel like a quiet spectator given the opportunity to take a glimpse into the lives of strangers, or even of friends and family. I love to live, but I also take pleasure in observing– even if at times what I see is painful because I suffer in silence with them. But these small glimpses are the little golden nuggets of life that I treasure forever. Even if they don’t happen to me and I’m just sitting on the outside looking in…..