You Were Always Meant to Rise: The Meaning of Wings
- Fly Girl
- Jul 25
- 4 min read
By Lisa Masters | Rise Up and Fly
Wings have always held a special kind of symbolism for me—one that has deepened with each chapter of my life, time, moments of hardship, pain, and each hard-earned step of healing.
At first glance, wings represent freedom. The freedom to leave, to escape, to lift off from the places that held you down but for me, wings aren’t just about getting away—they’re about returning. Returning to yourself. Returning to the woman you were before the world tried to convince you that you were too much, too broken.
For me, wings are a symbol of resilience—not the shiny, social-media kind of resilience, but the quiet, messy, gritty kind. The kind that rises from the ashes of betrayal. Of surviving what was meant to break you. Of learning to move through grief and betrayal. Falling down but getting back up after heartbreak and abandonment.
Wings, to me, are sacred.
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Forged in Struggle
We don’t grow wings in times of ease.
We grow them in the waiting rooms, in hospital beds, in the courtrooms, in the silence after goodbye. They form in the hard conversations, in the shaky boundaries we finally set, in the days we choose healing even when bitterness feels easier.
Wings are not inherited—they are earned.
Rooted in faith. Each time we choose to believe that something better is possible, even when the evidence feels thin, our wings expand. Every time we show up anyway—tired, grieving, afraid—we grow stronger. Every time we decide to get honest about our pain, instead of numbing it or pretending it’s not there, those wings stretch just a little further.
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What Wings Mean to Me
Wings carry layers of meaning in my life. More than just a symbol—they are a truth I return to, again and again.
• They represent survival. They remind me I’ve made it through things I never thought I’d get past.
• They represent choice. I’m never stuck. Even if I can’t take flight today, I can always move—inch by inch, breath by breath.
• They represent hope. The belief that no matter how dark it gets, light is still possible.
• They represent truth. That I am not what happened to me—I am what I’ve chosen to become.
Wings don’t erase the hard stuff. They simply give it meaning. They remind me that I can carry it all and still soar.
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Invisible Wings
Not all wings can be seen. Some are stitched deep into the fabric of who we are. Woven from every brave moment, every hard decision, every time we kept showing up for ourselves when it would’ve been easier to quit.
They’re made of the nights we whispered “I can’t do this” and the mornings we did it anyway.
They are the result of every time we said:
• “Enough.”
• “I deserve better.”
• “This ends with me.”
• “I choose healing.”
Our wings aren’t always visible to others. Sometimes, they’re not even visible to us—until one day, we realize we’ve risen above what once held us down. We’ve become the version of ourselves we once prayed for.
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Grace, Not Perfection
Wings also carry grace. Not in the polished, flawless sense—but in the softness with which we begin to treat ourselves. The compassion we learn to give, first to others, then—slowly—to ourselves.
Grace is in the way we get back up.
In how we learn to speak kindly to the woman in the mirror.
In the gentleness we offer our past selves, the ones who didn’t know better yet.
Grace is what keeps us grounded even as we take flight. It reminds us that healing doesn’t require perfection—just presence. Just intention. Just the courage to keep trying.
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A Symbol That Shows Up
I often see angel wings—on murals, in dreams, even in random art on the street. And every time, they feel like a whisper from something greater. A reminder that I am not alone. That I am supported. That I’m still rising.
Maybe that’s why I’ve always been drawn to them. Because wings speak without words. They say:
“You’re still here.”
“You’ve come so far.”
“You don’t have to earn your worth—you already have it.”
And perhaps most powerfully:
“You are allowed to fly—even if you’re still healing.”
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We Were Made to Rise
There’s something sacred in recognizing that you were never meant to stay small. Never meant to stay wounded. Never meant to live in the shadows of what hurt you.
We were made to rise.
Even if our flight is uneven. Even if we carry scars. Even if we’re still learning how to trust the air beneath us.
We rise not because we have something to prove—but because it’s who we are.
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In Case You Forgot
If today feels heavy… if you’re still in the thick of your healing… if you haven’t felt your wings in a while—let this be your reminder:
You are rising, even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.
Your wings are still there, even if no one else can see them.
You’ve come too far to go back now.
Your story isn’t over.
Your pain is not your identity.
Your power is still unfolding.
So take a deep breath.
Honor the strength it took just to get here.
And when you’re ready, even if your voice shakes, whisper this truth to yourself:
“I am allowed to fly. I was always meant to.”
Because wings aren’t just for escape.
They are for becoming.
They are for coming home.
They are for freedom—not from life, but within it.
And you?
You were always meant to soar.
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xoxo,
fly girl
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