The Bird That Flew Into the Library
Operation Rescue The Bird
One afternoon in school, our class–students and Paraeducators alike–went to the library. I seated myself in one of the tables half-reading a book, half-watching the kids do their work.
Out of the blue, a bird flew in from one of the open double-doors of the library and circled above our heads.
"Aaahhhhhhcccckkkkk!" The kids shrieked. "Bird! Bird! Hey, it’s a bird!" They ducked and peeked through excited arms poised defensively in front of their faces.
The poor bird flew to the wide, broad fixed window at the back of the library; but it kept banging against the clear, transparent glass. Over and over again, it flew to the window and hit the glass. The bird, obviously, was trying to fly back to the clear blue skies and tall green treetops outside, but the glass window was barring its way. The poor bird could see its home, but just couldn’t get there. Freedom felt so near, yet so far.
Soon, after an alternating "thump-thump" from the bird hitting the window and "aacckkk, bird!" from the students, the bird finally grew tired and rested on the window sill, perched as if it were going to try again, looking hopeful that the invisible field would be gone by then.
When my wits finally came back, I, along with the other adults, stood up and approached the bird gingerly. The bird had a bluish-black coat, and was about the size of a grown man’s hand.
Tired from its futile attempts to fly out the window, it hopped back and forth on the sill. My first instinct was to carefully catch it with my bare hands, but thoughts of birdflu stopped me. I asked for a plastic bag instead. One of the library aides quickly got me one, which shot the idea that maybe I didn’t have to catch the bird after all.
Plastic bag fixed the way I wanted it in my hands, I slowly reached for the bird. Hop, hop, hop it went to the edge of the sill. As my plastic bag-covered hands slowly got closer to it, the bird tried to flutter its wings and get away from the wrinkled white glob. It was a point of no return for me so I closed my eyes shut and, through the bag, felt my fingers touch the bird’s feathers, its wings and, finally, its whole warm body around my hands.
I have the bird! my mind screamed silently. The knowledge sent electric fluid running down my arms.
"Ms. Cruz got the bird!" "Careful! Careful!" Jubilant but hushed murmurs surrounded me. I turned around slowly. I could feel the delicate structure of the bird. My hold was nervous–unsure how firm my grip should be. I realized that the bird’s fragile life was in my hands literally, and that in an instant, I could easily squeeze the air out of its already nerve-wrecked lungs. I relaxed my hold. Gently, ever so gently, I cradled the bird between my palms and walked towards the double-doors through which it had mistakenly flew in.
I had planned on walking all the way outside of the library into the open then release the bird to its freedom. But, something a co-worker said distracted me and my hold loosened. The bird jumped on the opportunity and flew away. But it flew too high and missed the opening of the door. Instead, it hit the glass window above the doors!
"Oh!" We grimaced. But the bird immediately got its bearings, flew lower this time and went straight through the door. To freedom.
The Bird, The Window and Me
To the bird, the air, blue skies, trees, wide open space represented freedom, happiness, peace, home–things it already had; yet, for some reason, it was lured into flying into the library. The bird knew it didn’t belong in the library, so upon seeing the view–its home–beyond the window, it flew frantically towards it, but in vain. The deceptive glass of the window mockingly masqueraded as the way to freedom. And it had become an obsession to the bird.
But, there was another way, and it required someone to help the bird find its way again. For the bird to find the right way, it had to be removed first from the window–the very thing that represented freedom to the bird.
Understandably, the bird struggled and tried to get away from my hands when I had caught it. It had no idea that I was only trying to help it be free again.
Perhaps, if the bird had been left alone, it would still be sitting on the sill, or worst, be dead from hitting the glass window over and over again.
Like the bird, I have everything I already need, but I would still stubbornly venture out to places, situations, and relationships that may seem like a good idea in the beginning but inevitably reveal themselves as a trap.
A nagging voice would then tell me that I wasn’t in a good place at all, that I was far from good things, far from true peace, far from home, far from my heart, far from my authentic self.
And so, like the bird, I would also ‘find my window and try to get out’ only to hit the glass over and over again.
In my life, the window represents ‘looking for love in all the wrong places’, toxic relationships, attachments to things, habits, behaviors, attitudes, etc. that provided fleeting happiness and false promises. I would pounce on this ‘window’ over and over again, duped into thinking that I was getting closer to what I was trying to get to.
The ‘window’ had become an addiction. It had replaced ‘home’.
The nagging voice would continue its plea to get away from the window. But I would try to drown it out by hitting it again. To numb the pain, I would fly to the glass and hit it again. Fly and hit, fly and hit. Again, and again and again.
God’s Will and Metanoia: The Way to Freedom
It is said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results every time.
Gosh, I’d been insane countless of times, then! How many times had I flown and hit the glass and not get anywhere?
Fortunately, there was another way, and it required Someone to show me. This Someone had the daunting task of removing me from the ‘window’ that had dangerously become a part of my reality. He had to show me metanoia–a profound change of heart, a change of direction, a new way of living. He had to teach me to surrender to Him, to His will.
Like the bird, I anxiously tried to get away when this Someone came. Nobody was taking me away from my ‘window’! But something in me also yearned to be free, to be saved, to surrender to the arms of…a Savior.
But the pull of the ‘window’ was too strong, and I couldn’t–didn’t want to–be taken away from it. It felt as if the window was stronger than anything.
However, this Someone was stronger. In fact, He seemed to be the strongest of them all. Too tired and too defeated to get away, I finally surrendered into His arms. For all His strength, He was surprisingly gentle.
Lovingly, He picked me up and held me as I felt the withdrawal symptoms from being far from the window running its course. He patiently nursed me until I could fly again.
Soon enough, I was spreading my wings on my way to true freedom. I was on my way home where peace, love and joy reside, where my Savior reigns from whose gaze I’m never far out of reach.
Though every now and then, new places with big windows would still fascinate me and I would go explore, I know now which ones to avoid. I have to learn to follow a different course. If I happen to find myself trapped because of my own wrong choices, I have faith that my Savior is never far away to save me and bring me back home again.
As I live in metanoia and strive to follow His will, I have faith that He holds me in His arms and would never let me go.
I only need to surrender to Him and to His faithul promise of freedom.
Over and over again.
