Catching the Wind
“God provides the wind, Man must raise the sail.” St. Augustine
I rebel against instructions of every type, so I was quite proud of myself for reading the pamphlet long enough to put my daughter’s butterfly kite together.
It was close to nap time and an hour before I had to pick my eldest daughter up from school. But the weather was perfect for kite-flying: the breeze rocking the trees, the sky so blue the clouds looked like they swam in a massive body of water.
The three of us went out into the field.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d flown a kite.
Maybe never.
I gauged the wind’s direction and tried to lift the kite up accordingly. It didn’t work. The butterfly nose-dived, bouncing across the shorn grass until I wound it back up and tried again.
This time, the kite lifted with the wind, the butterfly’s tails flapping, and then it rose higher and higher. Twisting my wrist, I let the string unspool from the kite’s handle.
The baby clung to my legs. My four-year-old ran over to me, and she stared up, blue eyes pinched against the sun’s glare. I passed her the kite right before the wind died down.
“Run!” I called. The four-year-old took off running, toward the kite, and the string slackened.
“No,” I said. “That way!” I pointed toward the other end of the field.
My daughter ran, and the string snapped taut.
She ran and she ran without looking where she was going, just knowing where she’d been told to go.
The kite’s tails fluttered. The butterfly wings spread wide. My four-year-old’s tangled blond hair shone in the sun as the baby ran over the grass in her big sister’s hand-me-downs from years-old summers that felt like yesterday.
Watching my daughter with the kite, I saw such an image of myself. I rarely take time to gauge the Wind’s direction but just start running, hoping the Wind will catch me.
It’s as if I think that if I work hard enough, I can get the kite of my life up into the air. But that is not always the case.
Sometimes, you must stop and wait.
Sometimes, you must run.
It’s all about the Wind’s direction. It’s all about standing in the middle of the field with the sun on your face, forcing you to close your eyes and listen to that still, small voice.
What if your kite flies? What if it doesn’t?
It’s okay, my friends; the rise or the plummet doesn’t define you.
What defines you is that you’re out there. That you’re taking the risk of trust (for isn’t that faith?). That you’re waiting patiently until the Wind changes direction.
Have you ever experienced a time in your life where you felt like you were waiting for the Wind to change direction? How did you feel during that time?
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Photo by Martin Blonk on Unsplash
