Wounded Wing

Early last Sunday morning, just about the time the sun was coming up, I took Ollie the wiener dog for a walk. As we rounded a curve on the trail, two ladies cautioned me that there were two circling hawks just ahead and they were afraid they might try to swoop down and grab Ollie. I tugged on his leash and kept him close to my side and kept my eyes on the sky as I quickened my pace. I saw one hawk circling a tree and watched him dive into the tree and emerge with a squirrel in his talons. He then flew down to the ground where the other hawk sat on the grass, and together they killed the squirrel and began to consume their prey.

Ollie and I continued our walk, and as we came upon the field again on our way home, the hawks were still there. I figured they were focused enough on their meal that Ollie and I could stand for a moment and watch the massive birds (from a safe distance, of course). I found myself quite fascinated by the hawks' wings ... they would periodically unfurl and flap them as they ate, and their wing span was quite large, even from as far away as we were standing. At first, I thought perhaps they were injured, but as Ollie and I began to walk on, the hawks took flight and I saw that their wings worked just as they should.

I've had an achy shoulder for a while ... OK, a long while ... and I finally caved in and told my doctor about it today. After she chewed me out for waiting so long to mention the pain, she sent me to the x-ray room ... I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that I think I've finally learned my lesson on ignoring physical issues. Well, maybe. I am a stubborn old gal, you know. My boss, Donna, was in town on Monday, and she insisted that I schedule an appointment and get my shoulder checked out. She told me that I had "wounded wing syndrome" ... that I was holding my arm in such a way as to minimize the pain in my shoulder.

All day today, the vision of the hawks' unfurled wings, the chastising words of my doctor about admitting my pain and Donna's comment about having a wounded wing have been rolling around in my head. I've decided that if I choose to see them, God always has lessons to teach me in every situation or event in life. My wing is wounded ... my shoulder and arm, yes, but the wing of my heart is wounded as well. Just as I needed to ask for help from my doctor to heal my wounded arm, I need to ask for help from my Maker to heal my wounded heart. If I ever want to be able to unfurl my wings again ... to take flight and soar high and free ... I have to trust Him. That's it ... just trust Him ... whether I'm on the ground or in the sky ... just trust Him.