There is a parable a magnificent bird that emerges from the ashes of a past, spreads its wings and ascends heavenward toward the sun. Towards his creator.
I think of that bird from time to time. The ashes in my world would be the wreckage of the past, the bridges Iâ€™ve burned, the confusion and pain I have caused. The inability to repair it often causes me frustration and anguish. I try to let it go but it always seem to return.
I want to be that bird. I want to rise from the ashes, and stretch up to the heavens, as if by instinct towards my creator. I want to stand at the door shaking the last of the ash from my feathers, excited in anticipation.
When the door opens, I want HIM to be able to say: â€œWell done my faithful servant, welcome homeâ€