Sometimes in the harried frenzy of the day, I find myself getting short. A bit grouchy. My cup is empty and I’m not serving out of my overflow but rather an empty tank that sputters and slows.

So when Jason got home yesterday from a long day of dealing with teeth, I knew I needed to get out and release some endorphins or we might have another exorcist moment like we did the night before.

I’m a social walker/runner. I like to go with friends. It’s more fun that way and it goes faster.

But last night, no one could go.

After my second attempt to find a friend (cue the loser-nerd music), it became clear I was to be the lone walker.

As soon as I left my front porch, I heard Him say, “Shall we dance? Finally? Just us?”

Then I knew why I was to be the lone walker.

He and I haven’t had much time alone these days.  Perhaps there’s a correlation between my empty overflow and the sporadic and brief moments I’ve shared with God.

Regardless, walking during sunset on a new path in a wooded area, I listened to some amazing music I had previously starred on Spotify. (I highly recommend the premium membership so you can listen offline at any time.)

Twelve years ago this summer, my father died.

While many of you don’t know the full story of my father’s life, hold tight. I’m going to be finishing the “Life Story” series when my new blog launches next month (Shhh. I haven’t openly talked about that yet.)

But in the meantime, just know he was a very severe alcoholic, to the point where he was homeless and living on the streets of Indianapolis for two years while I was in college.

He was incredibly broken. He fought private demons we couldn’t see. And he did whatever he could to numb the pain.

Luckily, he was sober for the last six years of his life and I was able to really get to know him before he passed away, ironically, from Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD).

Alcohol was not his killer. But cigarettes were.

As we were making plans for his funeral, my aunt mentioned the song “Blackbird” by the Beatles always reminded her of her brother–my father.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night…Take these broken wings and learn to fly.

My father flew on broken wings while he was on this earth.

It was painful to fly on those wings. He often wanted to just give up because the pain was so great. And so many times, he did.

Yet He still kept being pulled back into the game.

Until he wasn’t.

After my father’s death, blackbirds would remind me of him, too.

I have many strange blackbird stories but I’ll just tell you about the one I experienced last night on my walk with God.

While listening to a song by All Sons and Daughters called “I Am Set Free,” and walking this beautiful path and watching the sun sink into the horizon on a perfectly mild evening, a large flock of blackbirds ascended into the sky as I walked near the patch where they had been feeding.

At the precise moment when the chorus sang,

I am set free, oh oh oh
I am set free, oh oh oh
It is for freedom that i am set free

And I don’t believe in coincidences. My father knew of the power in the name of Jesus.

I know his wings aren’t broken anymore.

My prayer for us today, sweet sisters, is for our freedom. It’s so much easier to fly with wings that aren’t broken. And there’s only one way to heal ’em.





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