Friday, March 28, 2014

i'll just flap my arms real fast

My 5-year-old son said he wanted to fly. He was convinced he could fly if he strapped on wings and flapped hard enough. Or if we got a powerful fan and blew it "only at him." Or if he ran real fast and jumped and kicked his legs in just the right way. In fact, he was pretty sure he was already flying a little bit...

And I remember having largely the same feelings. The same thoughts. Same aspirations. I was convinced at one time that the adults were overlooking something or had just given up trying or didn't want to fly hard enough. There has to be a way. Why wouldn't there be? Why would there be such an arbitrary limitation as being stuck on the ground?

I hope he does fly some day. Not in a plane. Not in a balloon. Not in a wind tunnel. But really flies, under the sole miracle of his innocent request and sincere expectation that God will make him fly.

It's what we want. It's what all boys want, I suspect.

Why do so many boys dream of flying if no one can?

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