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Over one hundred years ago, six-year-old Glenn and five-year-old Earl (my father-in-law) lived with their family on a Saskatchewan prairie homestead in Canada.
About a mile from their cabin, a hill rose out of the plain.
They longed to climb it, and after some cajoling, permission was granted. So they set out across the grassland to the base of the hill and began to climb.
Up, up, up they scrambled. It seemed farther than they had thought, but with great persistence, at last, they stood upon its summit.
They saw the little town of Elrose on the far side of the hill.
They saw the rolling prairie all around, and they saw their little shanty away in the distance. Their exuberance at reaching the top began to abate as they realized they were hungry but without food, thirsty but without water, tired, and very far from their small cottage. Now, these boys had been taught about God and prayer, so they reasoned together that a better way to get down might be to fly home.
They knelt down and prayed, telling God they really needed wings to speed up their journey home. Then they stood up and wondered how long it might be before God would answer. “Earl,” Glenn asked, “could you feel my back and see if any wings are growing yet?” But no wings seemed to be sprouting. Indeed, Glenn could find no evidence that Earl was growing wings either. Their concern deepened, and another heartfelt prayer ascended, but alas! Still, no wings appeared. They knew that God answers prayer sometimes with yes, sometimes no, and sometimes wait a while. But they could not wait any longer, so abandoning their appeal for wings and mustering up their waning energy, they set out for home on their own weary feet.
As the years passed, they realized God’s wisdom in denying their request.
How difficult life would have been with wings on this earth.
God’s answer was the right one, as it always is.
Do you suppose in heaven they will finally get their wings? Today, God invites us to rest (dwell) between His shoulders—on His wings—and trust His answer will be right in the end.
Rhonda Huffaker Bolton