Broken Wings, a prose written by Shelly Wilson at
Luke Stackpoole

Broken Wings

Broken Wings

written by: Shelly Wilson



The little starling fell hard amidst the storm and she must have been there for some time before I saw her lying almost lifeless.

I gently placed her in my hands and held her close to my chest. Perhaps the beating of my heart would offer comfort and heat to a precious bird in shock.

I knew she was familiar with traveling with a pack and her aloneness would soon overtake her sweet soul if not mended quickly.

I laid her drenched body on a tiny makeshift bed and gave her a good “look over.”

Ahhh… “She has broken wings.”

I went to kneel beside my bed to call on my kind Father. For, He was the great physician who could mend all things broken.

As I called upon His name, His light began to hover over the lame bird. I inquisitively watched as He made His love for my new friend evident.

It seemed to hurt His heart at her pain, and I could hear utterances mixed with what sounded like teardrops. He knew intimately the little starling.

For some weeks, daily, Father would come hover over the starling until finally, her strength began to return and I noticed she would whisper so tenderly to Him as He seemed to whisper to her. They seemed to share many secrets that were special only to them.

Father soon let me know my little friend would be on the mend soon. He had used the healing time to pour into the starling some new assignments.

Daily, I had fun watching the little starling begin to jump and hop around the room checking her strength and testing her wings. Each day got better and better and finally, the day arrived.

Father came with a beautiful fragrant scent and danced around the room with His glorious light. He rested His spotlight onto what seemed to be a small stage. As the curtains pulled back slowly and with a sheepish grin came the pitter-patter of the little starling.

I could hear Father tenderly, “I have mended your wings little one. Now you must return to your flock and fly.”

Suddenly, I could hear a massive wind storm of what I thought was falling rain. But as I ran outside, a flock of starlings were dancing in unison to a beautifully orchestrated choreography. It was like nothing I had ever seen. But there was a visible missing spot in their lineup.

Father gently lifted my little friend in an effort to urge her to take her place in His flock.

She gave me a tight squeeze and spread her wings…in perfect timing, she flew to her appointed place. The glaring hole in the beautiful dance routine was no more and the flock was again complete.

As I glanced happily at Father, He placed His hand on my shoulder and reminded me “I am always near the broken-hearted-as should you be. Your job is as you did. Find the lame birds and love them to health. Call upon Me and I will heal their broken wings.”

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