USK | Prose | Pettus | Learning to Fly

Learning to Fly

Tom was a boy, just like all other boys. He had friends, he liked to run to the park on warm summer mornings and play kickball for hours and hours, until he'd hear the yell of his mom and knew it was time for dinner. He hated his homework and loved his dog and hated his sister but loved his sister, and was pretty much just like every other boy he knew.

But Tom did have one thing that was unusual -- Tom received a visit from an angel.

It was nighttime, one April. Tom was asleep, having a great dream about a wonderful place where little boys get all the ice cream they could ever want. But all of a sudden everything started getting fuzzy, then black, and then Tom saw a bright little spot way in the back, like his parents' old television set in the basement when you would turn it on, and then the spot got brighter and brighter, until it was a huge, amazing, brilliant, awe-inspiring (and not just a little frightening) angel, with giant wings and a glowing halo.

"Tom," the angel said, "I have a message for you from God."

"A message? From God?" Tom said. "For me? You must be mistaken."

"No, Tom, there's no mistake," the angel said. "God wants you to learn how to fly."

"Fly?" Tom was confused. "I can't fly! No one can fly! That's impossible!"

"Be that as it may," the angel said, "God wants you to learn." And with that, the angel started to disappear again, winkle and turn back into a bright dot.

"Wait!" Tom said. "Why? Why does God want me to learn how to fly?"

"You will know that," the angel said with his tiny, almost-gone voice,"when you learn how to fly."

And then -- he was gone.

The next day, Tom was as confused as ever, but if his parents had taught him one thing, that was to not question the will of God. So, right after school, Tom went straight to the library and went up to Marge at the front desk and asked to get as many books as he could about the subject of flying. Marge was pleased that Tom had such an interest, and ended up getting him a book on ducks, another book on jet fighter planes, and yet another book on trapeze artists.

Tom took them home and read them, and then the next week, went back and got some more books and read them, and on and on, and pretty soon, school was out for the summer, and the boys took to the park like boys always do, but Tom was too busy with his books.

Tom ended up staying in almost every day, reading his books and taking notes and staring for a long time at the pictures of the birds caught mid-flap.

Tom's friends would come by and yell, "Come on, Tom! We're one short for the team! Come on, let's go play kickball!"

And Tom would look up from his books and say, "No thanks. I'm busy."

"What are you so busy with?" they would ask. "It's summer!"

And Tom wasn't sure if God wanted him to spoil the surprise, so he would say, "Just reading. That's all." And after awhile, Tom's friends stopped coming by.

As the summer went by, Tom noticed that he was starting to pick things up. Information. Useful information. Things started clicking together in his mind as the months rolled on. And, lo and behold... Tom started learning how to fly. Tom kept reading and studying, not sure if he knew enough yet to actually try it, until one hot August day when he realized that it was now or never. Taking his small, pale body out the door, Tom headed to the tallest building he knew of, which for his neighborhood was a six story parking garage about two blocks away.

Tom climbed all the steps of that parking garage, and soon he was at the top, nothing but sky and clouds and the warm sun above him. Tom walked over to the side and stood on the concrete edge, looked down to see the hard, hard ground below. Truth be known, Tom was really scared. He wasn't sure that his plan would absolutely work. He almost backed down. But then he thought, No, no, God wants me to do this, and if God wants me to, then I'll do it. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and jumped...

and fell...

then hovered...

then rose. And before he even knew it, Tom was flying.

It was great, and exhilarating. He had done it! Tom felt light as a feather, and the more he kept flying, the higher he rose.

Pretty soon, he was so high that he couldn't see his house anymore. In fact, he was so high, he couldn't even tell anymore where the edge of his town stopped and the edge of the neighboring town started.

*	It's funny, Tom thought, how when you get so high like this, you can't even tell the difference between one town and another. Why, from here, it just all looks like ground and trees and water and little gray roads running all over the place.

In fact, he continued thinking, I bet if you went high enough, you wouldn't even be able to tell where one state ended and another began. In fact, if you went high enough, I bet you wouldn't even be able to tell where one country ended and another began. From that high up, I bet the whole planet just looks like ground and water and trees.

Suddenly Tom realized what God's purpose was in wanting him to learn how to fly. Why, he was to become a messenger! As soon as people learned that a boy could fly, he would be famous. He would be on TV all the time and leaders of great countries would invite him to speak, and when he did, he would tell them all about what he had learned up here, in the sky; about how silly it was to fight other countries, and go to war, because from up here, you can't even tell where the countries are -- it's just ground, and water, and trees. This was God's plan. It had to be.

Suddenly Tom heard a clap of thunder, and then, from out of nowhere, a bolt of lightening struck out and hit Tom square in the back. Tom lost his balance, and then he started falling, faster and faster, and managed to regain his balance right before he hit the ground, but he still hit it hard enough to break his arm.

That night, at the hospital, Tom dreamt again. And, again, in his dream, the angel came, winking into existence just like before.

"What happened?" Tom said. "Is God mad at me? Did I guess wrong? Why did God hit me with a bolt of lightening?"

"God... changed his mind," the angel said. "He doesn't want you to learn how to fly anymore."

"But why not?" Tom yelled. "Why? What's the reason?"

"Oh... no reason," the angel said. "God just... changed his mind." And, quick as a wink... the angel was gone.

I am an old man now, so old that my children now have children of their own. I hear these children ask my children sometimes, "Daddy? Why doesn't grandpa ever fly when he comes to visit? He always takes the train, every time, and it takes so long!"

And I hear these children ask my children, sometimes, "Daddy? Why doesn't Grandpa ever go to church? Not even on Christmas! Why doesn't he go to church with us?"

My children don't know the answer either, so they usually make something up, some answer designed to satisfy little boys and little girls before they go do what's really important, which is to go run out and play some more. Which they always do.

But, me -- I know the real answers, known them for quite awhile. And now, I guess, you do too.

Previous · Back to Jason Pettus · Next

Join the discussion at The Unofficial Digital Campfire...