Learning to fly

(That’s my sister.  She’s cute and likes pirates.  I love her very much.)

When I graduated from high school, I spoke at my graduation.  While that is a funny story all by itself, I have been thinking of that little speech for the past few days.  I wanted to wrap it up with a flourish, with something that would make everyone be so moved they would cry.  :)  In the end, I think I was the only one who cried, but what I said was this:

“When you come to the edge of all the light you know, and are a about to step off into the darkness, faith is believing that one of two things will happen: either there will be something solid there to stand on, or you will learn to fly.”

Though Matt and I have been on a life-changing road for a few years now, the past few months have been an accelerated, AP course in “What do you really want?” Everything we ever thought, everything we ever did, everything we ever imagined for ourselves has changed, and an entirely different future has opened in front of us.

In essence, we’ve come to the edge of all the light we knew.

Things have come to a climax (a good one) these past months and weeks, and I’ve felt like that little high schooler who was about to step off (more like jump!) into the dark. 

(Would we learn to fly?)

Last night, as I hit a minor breakdown in the middle of the overwhelming chaos of SO MUCH going on, I learned something.

I was wrong as a senior.

I might not learn to fly.

However, though “flight” did not occur, this is what did happen:  My husband, desperately needing sleep, stayed up anyway and listened and helped.  And then, when it seemed hopeless that I was going to solve this one little issue (yet so big to me), someone I didn’t even know yet stepped in and volunteered to help in a way that was more generous than I could have imagined.  And this morning another friend stepped in and helped me finally let go of some other things in my life that I have struggled so much to truly let go of for a while.

So my prayers were answered, my help came, there was something solid, and I did fly.  But only with help.

But I didn’t do it myself.  Perhaps we help each other fly?  We prop up one another’s wings and we move into the beautiful unknown together.

Always there comes this point of darkness where I don’t know what’s next.  But always, there is someone who helps me let go, who helps me stand, or who helps me fly.  Always.

I keep seeing little webs woven so intricately that to step back and see how we all connect and all help each other is truly miraculous.  Thank you to each and every one of you in my little world, who hold me up, push me on, and help me fly.

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