When I was young someone warned me, “Lily, be careful what you wish for.” This sentiment is not rare. I think it might be in a couple pop songs. There are times in my life…pretty much like everyday, that I have a plan for what I want. A plan that I like and a plan that I am motivated to make happen. I pray for God to help make my plans work and to give me what I think is best for myself. I am so glad that God is not a genie who grants me my wishes. If God answered every prayer with a “yes”, this would be one screwball of a world. In my life I have prayed and come to realize that talking to God is not about getting a result. Talking to God is about trust, comfort, and building a relationship. He is willing to hear everything that I want and He is a great listener. But He does not always say yes. When I was 10 I lived in Framingham, MA. Framingham was a colorful town. We lived down the street from the train station, shared the block with a men’s shelter, and our neighbors built some bombs in their basement one time. Ironically that house and our life there was the peak of my childhood. I loved every second. Behind our Framingham house we had a row of poisonberry trees. The birds loved to nest in them and once a year the same family of blue jays would have their babies in our yard. I loved those baby birds. They were so cute and I wanted to be like the kids in books and movies who would find hurt baby birds and nurse them. My problem was that none of the baby birds we had were hurt. Our baby birds were perfectly happy chirping away in their nest. I wanted to hold just one sooooo bad. I asked my mom and she said absolutely not. If the baby birds smell different, the mom won’t feed them and they’ll die. But I was determined to nurse myself a baby bird. I went out one afternoon on a mission. After I checked to make sure my mom couldn’t see, I casually placed myself against the tree. To this day I am ashamed of what I am about to confess. I, Lily Fairman, bumped against that tree with all my ten year old might. Once wasn’t enough though. At this point the birds were not very happy. I slammed the trunk again. Successful this time, i was staring at a baby bird on the ground. In that moment I realized that I had done a horrible thing. I ran to get help from the house. My fairy-tale had turned into a bad dream. My dad swooped in to the rescue with a paper-towel and carefully placed the uninjured, yet traumatized, bird back into its nest. Perhaps God does not always say “yes” because I don’t have the wisdom to realize how my life should go. He knows what I have yet to learn. I will always remember looking at the poor bird on the ground and realizing what I wanted was in reality a nightmare. Yes, there are those days that I find myself looking at a metaphorical baby bird on the ground of my life…wishing God had stopped me. But praise God for the days He saves me from myself.
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AuthorMy name is Lily. Archives
October 2016
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