Once upon a time there was a little boy who was raised in a orphanage. The little boy had always wished that he could fly like a bird. It was very difficult for him to understand why he could not fly. There were birds
at the zoo that were much bigger than he, and they could fly. “Why can’t I?” he thought. “Is
there something wrong with me?” he wondered.

There was another little boy who was crippled. He had always wished that he could walk and run like other little boys and girls. “Why can’t I be like them?” he thought.

One day the little orphan boy who had wanted to fly like a bird ran away from the orphanage. He came upon a park where he saw the
little boy who could not walk or run playing in the sandbox. He ran over to the little boy and asked him if he had ever wanted to fly like a bird.

“No,” said the little boy who could not walk or run. “But I have wondered what it would be like to walk and run like other boys and girls.”

“That is very sad.” said the little boy who wanted to fly. “Do you think we could be friends?” he said to the little boy in the
sandbox.

“Sure.” said the little boy.

The two little boys played for hours. They made sand castles and made really funny sounds with their mouths. Sounds which made
them laugh real hard. Then the little boy’s father came with a wheel chair to pick up his son. The little boy who had always wanted to fly ran over to the boy’s father and whispered something into his ear. “That would be OK,”
said the man.

The little boy who had always wanted to fly like a bird ran over to his new friend and said, “You are my only friend and I wish that there was something that I could do to make you walk and run like other little boys and girls. But I can’t. But there is something that I can do for you.”

The little orphan boy turned around and told his new friend to slide up onto his back. He then began to run across the grass. Faster and faster he ran, carrying the little crippled boy on his back. Faster and harder he ran across the park. Harder and harder he made his legs travel.

Soon the wind just whistled across the two little boys’ faces. The little boy’s father began to cry as he watched his beautiful
little crippled son flapping his arms up and down in the wind, all the while yelling at the top of his voice, “I’M FLYING, DADDY. I’M FLYING!”

Roger Dean Kiser,Sr.

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Flying is a true story. The author, Roger Dean Kiser, was the little orphan boy who carried his friend through the wind.

Heavenly Father, Help us remember that the jerk who cut us off in traffic last night is a single mother who worked nine hours that day and is rushing home to cook dinner, help with homework, do the laundry and spend a few precious moments with her children.

Help us to remember that the pierced, tattooed, disinterested young man who can’t make change correctly is a worried 19-year-old college student, balancing his apprehension over final exams with his fear of not getting his student loans for next semester.

Remind us, Lord, that the scary looking bum, begging for money in the same spot every day (who really ought to get a job!) is a slave to addictions that we can only imagine in our worst nightmares.

Help us to remember that the old couple walking annoyingly slow through the store aisles and blocking our shopping progress are savoring this moment, knowing that, based on the biopsy report she got back last week, this will be the last year that they go shopping together.

Heavenly Father, remind us each day that, of all the gifts you give us, the greatest gift is love. It is not enough to share that love with those we hold dear. Open our hearts not to just those who are close to us, but to all humanity. Let us be slow to judge and quick to forgive, show patience, empathy and love.

Feeling footloose and frisky, a featherbrained fellow
Forced his fond father to fork over the farthings.
And flew far to foreign fields
And frittered his fortune feasting fabulously with faithless friends.
Fleeced by his fellows in folly, and facing famine,
He found himself a feed-flinger in a filthy farmyard.
Fairly famishing, he fain would have filled his frame
With foraged food from fodder fragments.
“Fooey, my father’s flunkies fare far finer, ”
The frazzled fugitive forlornly fumbled, frankly facing facts.
Frustrated by failure, and filled with foreboding,
He fled forthwith to his family.
Falling at his father’s feet, he forlornly fumbled,
“Father, I’ve flunked,
And fruitlessly forfeited family fellowship favor.”
The farsighted father, forestalling further flinching,
Frantically flagged the flunkies to
Fetch a fatling from the flock and fix a feast.
The fugitive’s faultfinding brother frowned
On fickle forgiveness of former folder.
But the faithful father figured,
“Filial fidelity is fine, but the fugitive is found!
What forbids fervent festivity?
Let flags be unfurled! Let fanfares flare!”
Father’s forgiveness formed the foundation
For the former fugitive’s future fortitude!