A Finch or a Phoenix?

My kids found a baby bird on the ground the other evening, and concerned about its welfare, they asked what to do.

While I claim no expertise, and probably broke a dozen federal, state and local laws, I recommended that they keep it safe from predators overnight and release it in the morning.

A million years ago, whenever a baby bird was displaced, I was the kid in the neighborhood who ended up caring for it. Some did not survive. Some were able to adjust to nature. One—a sparrow—never realized he was a bird and remained with us for his natural life. Spoiled, but with a great personality is the best way to describe him.

The baby bird this week (named “Timothy” by my daughter) was released into the underbrush behind our yard and demonstrated that he could fly, at least a little bit. In the absence of proof positive, I’m going to assume that he’s done well and will live long and prosper.

However, some predator, such as the last remaining saber toothed tiger might have gotten him.

That’s reality.

As humans, we face reality every day at work, at home, or at school. However, we have a little something that other creatures do not have—dreams. We can imagine a better, brighter, more wonderful future. Hopefully it’s for whatever time we’re allotted, but even if we never see it, it’s nice to look forward to what might be.

Reality holds us back; dreams spur us forward. I choose the Phoenix.

Never underestimate power and the importance of dreams.

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