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Acknowledging brokenness. Moving beyond.
Dear little bluebird, sing a spell of hope, and all your dreams. Remind us of our innocence and sing of what has been. And tell the tale oh bluebird, then of how you came to fall: how even well-tuned flights may fail, of numbing earthward call. Then story us, dear bluebird, now who song of wonder sings and takes up crooked flight upon what once were broken wings.
This is a story familiar to many of us, and certainly one I have known. Innocence and naive hope turn to the shock and pain of what’s been dubbed “reality,” but which may be more fairly described “the human experience.” You might think I’m splitting hairs here, but I believe the distinction important.
But that “numbing earthward call” is not the end, nor is our brokenness. The stuff of heroes and legends — ancient and modern — is the choice to take up flight again, however crooked; and to persevere through our failures and shortcomings, though imperfectly.
Our media is saturated with stories reminding us that we are more than our brokenness: greater than our failures. I believe this is because we know in the core of us we were intended for more, and will yet be restored. That, and not our mistakes, is the truth and the reality of who we are. I think we long to be reminded of this. I know I do.
And so we mount up on wings that were broken, aiming our crooked flight toward the truth even as we anticipate the restoration — the resurrection — into who we were first meant to be.