Flags Unfurled

All the town came out to see. After a year of fundraising and construction the new flagpole in the village square was ready. The mayor and other city officials were assembled, as well as the local boy scout troop to lead the pledge of allegiance and a high school senior to sing the national anthem. With a drumroll, the large flag was hoisted into place, but it was a still morning and the flag drooped like a sleeping child on his mother’s shoulder. Even the most patriotic longed for more.

“It needs wind,” a child whispered to her mother, and she was right. Flags need wind to come to life. Boats need their sails filled if they’re ever going to reach their destination.

If we are honest, we need wind too. We need the help of something, or someone, if we are to unfold and come to life. I’m thinking of a teacher I know who sat quietly each morning before the students arrived only to unfurl into one of the finest educators I’ve known. There was also the socially awkward painter who found her inspiration once the brush was in her hand. There was also the minister who climbed into the pulpit and delivered a sermon without notes that left us all mesmerized. In each case, something other than their own innate talent, their own determination, blew through them.  

Each day we are hoisted into our various roles. Whether we head downstairs to make breakfast for our children, grab our coffee for our commute, or head to the studio, we have a choice: we can go through our days as if it all depends on us, or we can open ourselves to God’s “wind” or spirit and allow it to blow through us. Such wind will cause us to wave and twist in random ways. We may even snap and pop from time to time. But such is the way of a spirit-filled, or animated, life . . . one filled with air, an inspiration to all looking on.