The Falsely Friable Bird

Have you ever noticed a birds’ behavior when it's injured? Did you, perhaps, take a moment to calculate its limitations? Did you happen to juggle the idea? Lastly, have you ever considered that we aren't that much different from the bird?

Recently, I was walking into the bank, and I noticed a bird on the ground. Now, it was likely to assume that it was dead because windows can be the most significant deterrent to the flight of a bird. The closer I got to the door, however, I noticed it flinching and blinking.

Now, I’m just going to be forthright and let you know that I continued on about my business. I walked into the ATM, grabbed what I needed, and came right out. Naturally, my gaze fell back to where I visually left the bird. To my surprise, the bird was now on his belly. I approached it with sheer curiosity because ultimately there’s nothing I could actually do with a wild bird. I think he figured the same so he casually fluttered his working wing and hobbled on.

Somehow, without my permission, my mind began cultivating favorable scenarios that would result in his ultimate healing. I wanted to believe that someone with wildlife expertise would show. I hoped that they would be some kind of classified wildlife reliever with an extensive portfolio of handling injured birds. I expected that after its rehabilitation it would be able to fly again and then somehow adapt to the realization that windows will kill you! Seems crazy that I would have so many hopes for a creation that wasn’t mine.

The situation occupied my thoughts so slowly that it started to distract my sister.

“Where are you?” she says.

“Huh?” I replied.

“Where’d you go just now?”

I pause and then abruptly respond. “Oh! I was thinking about this bird I saw outside of the ATM. It was hurt but not enough that it couldn’t at least hobble. So then I just started thinking about how I hope it gets to safety or just something. I dunno.”

She starts smirking and says, “Oh, so basically that ‘repairing the broken bird’ thing you do.”

Of course, I make a face, “What does that mean?”

She giggles, “You know you have a thing for certain broken birds. You pattern the same thing with dudes. The difference is, you do it with the ones who purposely break their wings just to get close to you.”

Per usual, my sister’s words stirred an aftershock in my core. "... Ones who purposely break their wings to get close to me?" I kept thinking: When had this happened? How many guys broke their wings so that I could fix them? Honestly, the number of men was not extensive, but the encounters with them were. I was continually embracing guys and pretending as if I was giving them tough love or guiding them to “wholeness.”

In actuality, I was only giving in to what they pretended to need. These men wanted someone who would be stern with them while simultaneously coddling them. They had no intention to reciprocate or ask about what I needed to feel complete in our camaraderie. If I pushed for those needs to be fulfilled, they would quickly become agitated and use distance as a repercussion.

I would act as if the distance wouldn’t bother me but deep down inside it was irritating and hurtful. I knew there was some kind of cycle that I couldn’t grasp. I wasn’t controlling the Ferris wheel, but I managed to get on it with a smile. All of this positioned me with so many questions.

What is the Lord showing me about my behaviors? Is the Lord trying to help me flesh out certain habits before marriage? What was causing me to believe that I was suddenly a modern day Noah? What kind of map did I want to create for being a Christian woman with male friends? What will my standards be for those friendships? How soon should I acknowledge when something is bothering me? If they’re incapable of upholding the pillars of sustainability, does that mean elimination without closure? Finally, after all of these rhetorical questions, which methods will I unapologetically apply?

Although I haven’t answered all of them, I’m indeed coming to some firm conclusions. First, some birds aren’t actually broken at all. In fact, they agitate their old wounds for the sake of attention. Second, I absolutely do not need to participate in the psychological hope for any “bird” or “man’s” future repair. If a man wants to be whole, then completion will be his priority. He’ll gently ask for my insight, but he won’t demand my work. Third, I have to make sure that this “broken bird syndrome” is not something that is secretly within me. I can’t genuinely place all of the blame on these “guys.” I have to diagnose my brokenness and work toward my healing. Finally, I have to remember that some birds are not actually friable. In fact, it’s just a mirage that was well built with the intent of distraction. I have solace in knowing that if any creature is ever friable to the ultimate degree, then it is, in fact, lifeless and likely to be extinct. Men have managed to naturally modify past lifelessness for centuries without my help. I too will learn how to adapt to resist the desire to fix what isn’t broken.