منتدي منظمة أقباط الولايات المتحدة

Once upon a time there was a little boy who was raised in an
orphanage.

The little boy had always wished that he could fly like a bird. It
was very difficult for him to understand why he could not fly. There
were birds at the zoo that were much bigger than he, and they could
fly. "Why can't I?" he thought. "Is there something wrong with me?"
he wondered.

There was another little boy who was crippled. He had always wished
that he could walk and run like other little boys and girls. "Why
can't I be like them?" he thought.

One day the little orphan boy, who had wanted to fly like a bird,
ran away from the orphanage. He came upon a park where he saw
the little boy, who could not walk or run, playing in the sandbox.

He ran over to the little boy and asked him if he had ever wanted
to fly like a bird.

"No," said the little boy who could not walk or run. "But I have
wondered what it would be like to walk and run like other boys and
girls."

"That is very sad," said the little boy who wanted to fly. "Do you
think we could be friends?" he said to the little boy in the sandbox.

"Sure," said the little boy.

The two little boys played for hours. They made sand castles and made
really funny sounds with their mouths. Sounds which made them laugh
real hard. Then the little boy's father came with a wheelchair to pick
up his son. The little boy who had always wanted to fly ran over to the
boy's father and whispered something into his ear.

"That would be OK," said the man.

The little boy who had always wanted to fly like a bird ran over to his
new friend and said, "You are my only friend and I wish that there was
something that I could do to make you walk and run like other little
boys and girls. But I can't. But there is something that I can do for
you."

The little orphan boy turned around and told his new friend to slide
up onto his back. He then began to run across the grass. Faster and
faster he ran, carrying the little crippled boy on his back. Faster and
harder he ran across the park. Harder and harder he made his legs
travel.
Soon the wind just whistled across the two little boys' faces.

The little boy's father began to cry as he watched his beautiful little
crippled son flapping his arms up and down in the wind, all the while
yelling at the top of his voice,

"I'M FLYING, DADDY. I'M FLYING!"

-- Roger Dean Kiser, Sr. --