Flying with a Broken Wing

Last Friday I got home and realized I had forgotten my song list at the office.  Though I was annoyed at having to go back and get it, I was again grateful that my commute is all of 30 seconds.  I pulled my car into the “loading zone” and left it running while I ran inside.  As I ran in I glanced down and saw a butterfly flapping what I figured were its last flaps before it died.  It looked to only have one wing.  When I came back out of the office a few minutes later that same butterfly was flapping with all its might... and FLYING with what I could then see was one full wing and one broken wing.  I wish I could have gotten a picture, but my phone was at the house.  Even if I had had my phone, I doubt I would have been able to adequately capture its struggle to fly in a photo.  


The image of that butterfly has come back to me over and over.  I think the reason is I identify with the butterfly.  I imagine that at some point that butterfly was perfectly beautiful with both wings intact.  It flew effortlessly, flitting here and there with no challenges.  However, it’s a butterfly, and a butterfly’s life is fragile.  At some point its wing got damaged and it was grounded.  

For the last nine months I have been like a butterfly with a broken wing.  I had been slammed to the ground and picking myself up was anything, but easy.  Just like the butterfly I’ve been determined to pick myself up off the ground.  I flapped and fluttered.  A few times I’ve slammed back against the ground, but eventually I got in the air.  

When you have one broken wing you can’t fly like you used to.  You have to make adjustments, find a new balance to keep you in the air.  You have to pace yourself and accept that you can’t move as quickly or as gracefully as before.  Your moves are erratic, sometimes even irrational, but in the end you get to where you need, want, to be.  Sometimes it’s just down right painful.

In my pride I want to say everything is okay, I’m fine, I’m healed.  But the fact of the matter is, I’m flying with a broken wing.  The good news is, I’m still flying.  I haven’t given up.  I haven’t laid down and given in.  I’m still flying.  I’m trying things out and finding what I can accomplish and what I’m just not ready for.  

Unlike the butterfly some day my wing will heal.  I will be able to flit and flutter around even better than before.  I’m injured, but I’m not permanently maimed.  I will soar again.  I will!