There’s a tree that stands outside my office window on the second floor of our house. Early this summer, a robin decided it looked like a cozy place to call home and she gave me a birds eye view as she built a nest. (See what I did there?)

It was fascinating to watch her knit all kinds of twigs and dirt and pine needles together to build a beautiful home. A few weeks later, three little eggs appeared and soon after, three baby chicks. Our girls made it their main goal in life to check in on the babies at least 20 times a day. And when the mama would return home with a worm, you would have thought it was Christmas morning! They were hysterical and precious watching her feed her babies.

About a week ago, I heard Mama squawking really loudly. When I looked out the window to see what was going on, I found her standing on the side of the nest, flapping her wings as hard as she could. And when I looked more closely, I saw the chicks flapping their wings too.

They were learning how to fly.

Over the weekend, the girls and I were playing in the yard when we found him. One of the baby chicks had fallen about twenty feet from the nest above. He’d survived, but was making a big fuss about it, yelling “Help!” as loudly as he could. The girls were upset and begged me to scoop him up and put him back in the nest through my office window. I was tempted, but I told them we couldn’t touch him or his mom might get upset. We left him there and hoped for the best…but none of us liked it very much.

An hour later, I went out to check on him and was amazed by what I found. That little bird had scooted himself over to the tree trunk and was climbing back up to the nest above, inch by little inch. By that time, he was less than a foot into his Mt. Everest, but he was determined – doing what he had to do.

He was fighting for his chance to fly.

It took him all day long, but when we checked on him at dinner, he’d finally made it back in the nest, safe and sound. We were all impressed and happy for the good news. Tomorrow would be his day. We were sure of it.

The next morning, I took our dog out in the morning and was sad to find our new little friend there again at the bottom of the tree – mad as he could be, yelling for his Mama as loud as he knew how. He can’t catch a break, I thought. Poor little guy isn’t putting it together. I named him Lucky, hoping it would rub off on him.

Just as he’d done the day before, Lucky scooted himself to the base of the trunk and began his all-day journey back home. I was impressed – and inspired. The day before, instinct had gotten him back on that tree. The day before, he didn’t know what the journey would cost him. But today, he knew full well what it would take to try again. He knew full well what was ahead of him. And he chose it anyway. He didn’t wait to be rescued and he didn’t give up. He got to work.

Good for you, Lucky. Tomorrow’s your day. I’m sure of it.

Now and then, we checked in and found him pulling himself up with his little bird legs and his beak. By dinner, he’d made it back to the nest. I couldn’t be sure, but Lucky looked a little discouraged this time. Or maybe that was just me. I felt sorry for the little guy. I couldn’t help but wonder…What’s wrong with him? The others are flying. Why can’t he? Is he broken somehow?

Can you relate? I mean, I know it’s a bird we’re talking about here, but isn’t that a nearly perfect picture of how it can feel when you’re learning to fly?

You put yourself out on the edge and muster up your courage to take the leap.

You catch air just long enough to imagine what success might feel like.

And then find yourself crashing to the ground.

You rally and pick yourself up. You do the exhausting work to get back in position.

You crawl. You climb. You do what it takes to try again.

You fight for your chance to fly.

You take your next shot – and your next – and your next…

Each time, landing a little harder than before.

What’s wrong with me?

Everyone’s flying, but me.

Am I broken?  

It would be a lovely ending to this story if I could tell you that Lucky got…lucky – that we gathered as a family and watched him take flight for the first time – and now, he’s soaring somewhere above us in the clouds where he belongs.

But the truth is, I can see him from my office window at this very moment. He’s climbing that tree again. In fact, it’s been four straight days of trying, and failing, and climbing, and falling for our little friend.

A part of me is angry on his behalf. Another part of me is tempted to give up and accept that he’s going to have to get used to walking. But as it turns out, it doesn’t matter what I think – because one thing’s for sure. That bird has made up his mind. He will claim his corner of the sky, or he’ll die trying. He’ll never give up. He’ll keep facing his Everest, inch by inch if he has to. He’ll keep fighting for his chance to fly.

And when I really think about it, I couldn’t ask for a more perfect ending to this story.

Never give up, friend. Your day is coming. Keep fighting for your chance to fly.