The air in the plane felt heavy; buzzing with familial chatter, the crinkle of chip packets and rowdy kids. I had a window seat- anywhere else and I’m not a happy traveler. This location allowed me to tune out the normality of flying, and be consumed by my thoughts.
I leaned my head against the glass, and felt its warmth seep into my hair. The rays reached across the heavens like fingers and lay on my skin; I often thought that’s what the hands of God would feel like, had they caressed my face. I smiled, and drifted.
When I was here, I felt safe. It seemed strange as to why, but for me, it was a chance to lose myself…but also find myself at the same time. The incomprehensible height had a metaphoric effect on me- almost like with each climbing meter into the unknown, a little more of the life I had below was left behind- temporarily, but an escape from the fickleness of everyday routine was necessary sometimes. I could be purged of all fears and burdens and guilt…I could just exist.
I imagined myself dancing amongst those feathery clouds…and longed to connect with something greater, with my Maker- the designer of such beauty. His angels would twirl me around in the candy floss, I would bounce off the sun’s arms and cascade into a sea of blue; and for the first time in a long time, I would feel free. Is that what birds witness? Do they get to behold the face of the Father, and is that why they whistle His songs?
I sometimes wondered how beautiful His view must be, and just how much fun He must have painting rainbows and pouring out rain- even throwing out bolts of lightning. Isn’t it amazing how much of God we see in nature? A true testament that an artist cannot be separated from his work. Earth must surely be His most beautiful creation, and us His most prized masterpiece.
If I did not have this faith, I would never have been able to feel such grace; such comfort from my life dangling in midair.
I knew. I was in good hands.