There was a lot of running involved, at first. Downhill, uphill, every-which-way in an attempt to launch it into the air. It had always seemed to me that kite-flying was a leisurely, carefree activity, but fifteen minutes into the endeavor, I was already worn out.
Then the wind picked up. Suddenly, we didn't have to run anymore. We simply threw the kite over our heads, and the wind cradled it and carried it upwards. We unraveled the string until it reached its end. We stood still, heads tilted up. We watched the kite soar.
I think sometimes we fight so hard to get off the ground on our own. If we can just run fast enough, arms outstretched, surely we will take flight. What we don't realize is, we can't take off without the wind. We're not made to fly on our own.
There is a right time for everything. Yes, there are times of soaring. But there are also times of waiting. Not everything in life comes down to how hard we try. We can throw our bodies into the atmosphere again and again, but without the wind to catch us and hold us aloft, we will fall right back down to earth.
God wants to take us higher. He wants to fill the sky with color. But we have to wait until we feel His breeze on our skin; we have to wait until we hear His voice in our ears. Without it, we are merely a scrap of bright fabric. But with it, we have wings.