It’s so fun to have the other people around me tilt their heads back and admire the beautiful flying colors which are undeniably tied to me. I’m the anchor, and each year I unloop a little of the string from my hands, watching my kids sail higher and farther than the year before.
There are unexpected yanks and tugs as the wind shifts, but I look at these as opportunities for new height! I may feel a tug to make my child attractive with new clothes and hairstyles. Then I might be pulled toward making him smart with good schooling and new technology. I might realize that he’s not fitting in, so I’m tugged toward improving his social skills and networking. Or I might notice that he lacks pizzazz on the sporting field, so I’m yanked toward building his skill with private lessons and better coaching.
The wind is unpredictable, and I never feel completely stable in my role down here, holding the strings. I’m always on guard. I can never relax. And I’m always worried about snags that could keep my precious kites from going higher into the sky.
Then, without warning, the wind pulls one of my kites into a tree. Maybe he fails a test, is bullied on the playground, or is cut from a team. From my place below, holding the strings, I am irritated and embarrassed and frustrated. I have two other strings to hold onto, and this one is stuck! I’m impatient to get the kite up into the sky again, where it can soar and be admired.
God, what should I do? I need wisdom about my child who is stuck. Help me get him unsnagged so that he can be free to soar again. I’ll do whatever you say. Should I climb the tree? Get a ladder? Cut off that branch? Or just try and tug him loose?
But God says no, He has a different plan. He says that he doesn’t want me to be driven and tossed by the wind anymore. He wants me to be free of my role as anchor. He wants me to give the strings to him.
Give the strings to him? What–all three? I’m confused. God must have misunderstood. I only need his wisdom about this one who is stuck in the tree. I know how to anchor these kites and keep them soaring high. I’ve been doing it for so long. I’m really good at it! See how the other two are flying? Plus, what would I do with myself if I was free of them?
God says he just wants me to be free of trying to control them. He wants me to be free to enjoy them as I never have before. He invites me to trust his wisdom and goodness instead of my own. But he says that once I give him the strings, I must not take them back. I must have faith in him; no doubting.
Hmm… this makes me really uneasy. With my strings in God’s hands, what happens to the two who are soaring high? They won’t be anchored in me, so I’ll miss out on the pleasure of being linked to their success! And what if God doesn’t know how to keep them flying high?
Plus, what about the one who is snagged? What if God doesn’t know how to get him down, either? Or what if he gets snagged again? The string won’t be mine to tug anymore. This makes me feel insecure and uncertain.
I decide to ask God for a guarantee. Can he assure me that if I give him my strings, my kites will fly higher than ever before? And that they won’t ever be snagged or ensnared? Will everyone always tilt their heads back and admire my precious kids? Will I feel even more pride that I have up until now?
God says no. This is not his way. Instead, I will feel freedom. I will be able to count it all joy, even when my child is ensnared beneath branches; unable to soar. He says the people around me will see joy and peace on my face. Rather than admiring me, they’ll notice the One who has gathered my precious kite strings, and who holds both them and me. God promises that my family will soar in new ways, unbothered by who is watching or what impression we are making. We will be steadfast. No longer driven and tossed. Steadfast.
As I consider the proposition, I feel the wind shifting again. I adjust my stance, trying to make the flying kites swoop higher. But as I respond to the surge of wind, I accidentally yank the snagged kite and hear a snap. Oh, no! Have I broken his sail? What have I done?
I feel new anxiety. A new rush of adrenaline. I’m angry. God gave me too many kites. I’m not equipped to handle this much pressure. I’m not doing well, and everyone can see it. The strings are cutting into my hands, and I’m not sure what to do next. I’m tired. I’m driven and tossed.
Gently, generously, and with no reproach, God holds his hands out. Will I trust him?