Posted by: Roberta68
I want to thank you, Lord, for the gift of life. I read somewhere that men are angels with one wing only: they can only fly by remaining embraced. Sometimes, in intimate moments, I dare think, Lord, even You have but one wing. You keep the other hidden: maybe to let me understand that You don't want to fly without me. For this you gave me life: so that I may your flight comrade.
Teach me then to fly with You. Because living isn't "trailing life", it isn't "tearing life", not "gnawing at life". Living is freeing oneself, like a seagull, to the inebriation of the wind. Living is tasting the adventure of freedom. Living is opening the wing, the only wing, with the faith of who knows he has a partner in flight great like Yourself.
I ask for pity for every sin committed against life. Foremost, for the lives killed before birth. They're broken wings. They're flights You planned to do and they didn't let You do. Journeys cancelled forever. Dreams killed at dawn. But I ask for forgiveness, Lord, even for all the wings I didn't help to open. For the flights I didn't know how to encourage. For the indifference with which I left scratch about in the courtyard, with a dangling wing, the unhappy brother which you had destined to fly in the sky. And You waited invain, for cancelled cruises.
Help me now to glide, Lord. To say, ground-to-ground, that abortion is a grave outrage to your imagination. It's a crime against your genius. It's sinking the dawn into the innerds of the ocean. It's the most murderous antigenesis. It's the most desolationg "decreation". But help me say, even, that giving life isn't everything. You must put light. And that ungodly is not only abortion, but every missed welcome. And every refusal. The refusal of a home, of a job, of education, of primary rights. Ungodly is letting the next into the melancholic vestibule of life, where "you survive", where you but vegetate. Ungodly is passing indifferently next to the brother left with his wing, his only wing, inexorably stuck in the net of misery and solitude. And who's persuaded himself of not being worthy of flying with You.
Especially for this brother give me, oh Lord, another wing.
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