A Prayer for Wings
Writer Author S.(Shae) A. Cooke
Christian Article
:
Life
- Fiction No
And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove! [for then] would I fly away, and be at rest. Psalm 55:6 (KJV)
As a five-year old child, I prayed daily to Jesus for a pair of wings. My grandmother used to read stories to me about angels, and their glowing wings fascinated me.
“Oh, how wonderful it would be if you could give me wings, Jesus”, I prayed. Every night I knelt by my bed and prayed for wings – sparkling, translucent wings that would fly me wherever I wanted to go. Each morning, I examined myself in the mirror. Not even a sprout, a bud, or even the smallest stub of wing appeared.
“Why, Jesus, oh why won’t you answer me?” That evening at my bedside, I received my answer.
Jesus said, “No wings, Kiddo”.
I cried, stomped my feet and held my breath, hoping He would change His mind, but Jesus again said, “Read my lips – no wings”.
It wasn’t until thirty-five wingless years later that I discovered why God did not fulfill my request.
It was Christmas and I attended a Christmas pageant at my son’s school. The cast re-enacted the manger scene – the birth of Christ. As the concert began, several small children, dressed as angels sauntered warily onstage. They wore lily-white robes, and bouncy gold halos crowned their heads. Their huge wings almost overpowered their small frames. When they filed toward the manger, one of the angels tripped over a wing of the angel in front. As the first angel fell, the others followed, like a line of neatly stacked dominoes. Within a moment, mayhem erupted. One child cried and the rest followed suit. The children tried to get up on their own. Every time they succeeded, they fell right back down again.
Mortified, the children looked on as the audience laughed hysterically. Instead of a holy scene, it looked like a holy mess; a coyote raiding a chicken coop would create less havoc! Bent and broken wings and feathers flew everywhere.
Most of the parents tried not to chuckle; but soon, we broke into gales of sympathetic laughter. However well-intentioned the costume designers were to please the cast and audience, they didn’t consider the effects of these feathery annoyances.
Shortly after the concert, it dawned on me that God answered my childhood prayer for wings, my life could have resembled that scene onstage. God had a reason for saying no! He knew if I suddenly sprouted wings, that life could get awkward, if not downright embarrassing. I laughed as I thought of myself with wings. How would I drive a car, or get into a dress? What if I caught the wings in a revolving door?
At forty-something, I finally understand that God knows best. He says no for a purpose – sometimes we have to wait thirty-five years to find out why.
I still have childish wishes. He still says no. I still pout once in a while, but I know He has my best interests at heart, and I thank Him for it.
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About the Writer Author
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British Columbia
Email:
shaesy@shaw.ca
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