Life of Rachel

There once was a boy who wanted to fly. He was sad and lonely and wanted to float above all of his problems and pains.

Every day, after staying up all night contemplating flight, he would set out at first light.

He would run to the river bank and sit upon the trees and squint his eyes and wish for gravity to be gone from his bones.

All of the creatures of the forest and river bank would watch as he would leap off the branch and flap his arms and for a second he would soar.

But because gravity exists no matter how hard little boys wish it didn’t, he would crash to the ground—sometimes harder than others.

He tried again and again, day after day wishing for a different result. Every single time he would hit the ground: Sometimes skinning his knees and sometimes scraping his elbows. Every single time, he would pick his bloodied and bruised self up, push his tears back and say, “Tomorrow. I’ll try again tomorrow and I shall be able to fly.”

He didn’t know any other way so he would try again and again. Then one day he tried with all his might. He closed his eyes and gathered all of the wishing he had, stepped off of the branch and pumped his arms so very fast.

And down he fell. This time breaking his leg. Though the little boy had skinned his knee and scraped his elbows, he had never broken his leg: the pain was unbearable. He wailed and all of the creatures in the forest heard. He didn’t come back to the forest for many days.

One day, he woke up and decided to try again. This time, on his way to his branch, he noticed a little bird soaring and dipping and thought to himself, “Maybe if I catch that bird, I can fly like that!”

🕊️

There once was a little bird. She knew she was pretty because all of the little children would point to her in the sky and say as much.

She flew high. Up, up, up.

She was a very pretty bird and she flew very high; but up where she flew in freedom, she felt alone. There once were other birds but she was the last of her kind.

She was sad and lonely and wanted to come down to earth where maybe someone could understand her problems and her pains.

One day, she heard a whistle from below.

“Little bird! Come down,” the little boy said, waving. But she was hesitant. Other little boys had crushed the wings of other birds before and she didn’t want to be one. She stayed in the sky and flew all day.

At evening, she landed on her perch and in the morning set out in the sky. Again, the little boy called and whistled out! “Oh beautiful little bird, do come down! You fly so high! Might you teach me!”

Again she kept her distance.

Day after day the little boy came back.

Day after day loneliness ate away at this little bird soaring all by herself.

One day the little boy called out “Oh most beautiful of birds! The most beautiful bird that has ever existed that ever will exist, please come down to earth!”

Her heart was moved by his persistence and allure and she thought, “Maybe if I can teach him to fly, I won’t be alone.” Knowing in the back of her mind that little boys were little boys and little birds were little birds and neither could change their nature.

She swooped down and landed near the little boy. Wide eyed, he just stared. Then with trembling hands he reached out.

The little bird cocked her head to the side and watched. She wasn’t afraid. After all, she could just fly away.

“I won’t hurt you, little bird. I just want to fly.”

And she believed him. She wanted to. She saw him that day when he broke his leg and wanted to teach him how so he wouldn’t hurt anymore.

She hopped onto his shoulder to his surprise and his knees buckled and he nearly fell over!

Then he asked, “How do I fly?”

She moved to hop off his shoulder to show him, but the lonely and sad boy got so surprised, he reached out and grabbed the little bird.

Pain cracked through the little bird’s body.
Darkness covered her.

“You can’t leave,” he said.

Fear struck the little bird.

But for some reason he removed her from his pocket. He looked at the little bird and burst into tears. Whether from sadness he would not be able to learn to fly because he crushed her wing or from genuine regret of hurting her, she did not know.

“I’m so sorry, little bird. I have to let you go now. That is the most loving thing to do.”

So he left her on his branch and walked sadly home.

She was still sad and lonely but this time with loss in her heart and without the ability of flight.

Let this be a lesson, boys and girls, that little boys belong with little girls and little birds belong with little birds and no matter how longing and lonely, neither can change their nature unless God decided that they would each be some other creature entirely.