There are certain things that I can still recall from my childhood: The distinctive smell of baseball cards as they emerged from their wax or foil packaging. The pebbled texture of rainbow shave ice from our neighborhood mom and pop store mixed with the smooth creaminess of vanilla ice-cream. The thrill of operating a brand new toy for the first time. And the feelings I had learning to fly a kite.
I can’t remember all the details. I couldn’t tell you what color the kite was, or how many streamers it had for a tail. But oh, I remember how special it was. Living in the city, there weren’t a lot of places where we could fly a kite without the fear of getting it stuck in a tree, damaging cars, crashing into homes, or creating an all out aerial assault on the elderly neighbors just out for their afternoon stroll. We’d have to make a day of it, pack up the car and drive to a large enough park, all the while hoping the wind would follow us there. As a child, I know I would have probably been begging my parents day after day, completely unaware of the amount of time it took to plan such an event with three children – all for approximately 5 minutes of bliss. Ah, but those 5 minutes have lasted more than a few decades in my mind already chockfull of memories.
There were a few other people at the park with us that day, and I could see a couple of kites already up in the air. I couldn’t wait for mine to be up there too. I pulled the kite from the bag and unrolled it, smoothing it down on the patchy grass, gripping the two special sticks in my hand, keeping them safe from loss or harm. It was time to make sure the kite frame was secure, fitting each of the wooden dowels snugly in their tiny plastic corner pockets. Unravelling the roll of string on the cardboard spool just enough to get a good lead, I proudly carried my kite to the edge of the wide, grassy area, carefully placing it back on the ground at our starting point. I eyed the lead line and decided it needed a little more slack, so I unrolled just a little more string before turning towards lift-off. I counted down from five and took off, sprinting towards the center of the park, pulling my kite behind me. Running at full speed, but trying to look back was a bit challenging for my clumsy six(ish)-year-old body, but seeing that kite hovering a foot or two off the ground was nothing short of amazing. And I was doing it! …That is until I ran out of steam and abruptly halted my run, panting with my hands on my knees, leaving the kite to crash and drag in the thick patches of grass among the hard dirt 25 yards after its inaugural flight.
After a few breaths, I looked up and marveled at the kites still high in the air, wondering how they did that. I couldn’t understand how those people could just stand there as their kites swayed in the wind. They weren’t running back and forth. They weren’t huffing and puffing. It was as if there was something else, someone else, dancing with them.
I had to keep trying. So I got up, and tried again. And again. And again.
Lately, I’ve been feeling like parts of my life are very much like that kite. I find myself running, almost out of breath, just to keep things afloat, to keep them from crashing to the ground. And inevitably they do, because of one circumstance or another. But I keep trying, racing back and forth, from edge to edge, looking back to see just how long I can make them float.
But the funny thing about kites, and perhaps life, is that working harder doesn’t always equate to higher achievement. The kite flies when we trust the wind to carry it. When we move with the wind. When we allow it to dance with the wind.
And as I sit and work towards my dream of writing a book, I realize that this feeling of running back and forth with my ideas, with my words, is simply exhausting. I find myself sitting in the dirt looking up at the dreams of others that have taken flight.
But what if I move with the wind?
What if I start to take those ideas that meet me in the middle of a writing session and instead of pressing through them, focusing instead on my own agenda, I pick them up and dance with them. What if I trust God to carry me through this? What if instead of running against the wind, I allow Him to pick me up, and dance.
Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take up my yoke and learn from me, because I am lowly and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30, CSB)
When our missions, the passions that God places on our hearts become exhausting, perhaps it is because we are placing too much of the work upon ourselves. For me, it is writing. For you, it may be the dream of opening a bakery, growing your family, or maybe even getting a college degree or diving into full-time ministry. I can assure you, whatever that passion is, God placed it on your heart not for you to be burdened and weary, but rather for it to materialize, grow, and take flight. Your dreams are meant to dance, my friend. Maybe it’s time to sit still.
I finally stopped running back and forth, and in tears, flopped to the ground holding the once pristine plastic kite, now scuffed and tattered at the corners. I remember gentle hands comforting my heartbreak, wiping my tears, and lifting me up to try again.
I want you to pay attention to the wind. Where does it want to go? Feel the pull of the kite; the wind will lead it. Work with the wind, not against it.
This time, I stood firm as the gentle hands lifted the kite into the air, catching the wind, and instead of running, I began to walk backwards slowly, step by step, feeling where the wind could catch it best. Almost instantly, the wind took hold, and the kite began to rise, ebbing to the left, then the right, as I slowly released it to the wind, allowing it to dance high in the sky. I could feel the power of the wind through that little cardboard spool hidden beneath my white knuckles, and it filled my soul with a feeling I couldn’t feel running back and forth, and forth and back. I didn’t want this moment to end, this feeling to end – this feeling of absolute joy.
Our dreams may be tattered or torn, maybe even missing a piece or two, but I urge you, dear one, to not give up. Let’s pick up the pieces and give it to God. Be still and lean into Him, trusting Him to breathe into our dreams, lifting them up into flight, showing the world how truly glorious He is. Let’s go fly a kite, my friend, and dance.
