When the plane lifts up from the ground, I momentarily close my eyes and take a deep breath. Flying.
I try not to think too much about it as we soar above the earth in a metal vessel. Other than the fact that the thought of tumbling down leaves me numb, I enjoy taking to the sky.
Suspended, hanging above the world and everything I care about, I love the uninterrupted time to read, reflect and write.
If only it were easier to keep myself in a chair, focused, when I return to the earth. There’s the distraction of things to do and people to talk to. It’s easy to avoid the difficult tasks.
Flying restores my soul. The ability to leap from one place to another makes the world small. My parents in South Carolina feel closer. Dreams of travel and visiting loved ones fill my heart. I scan faces in airports, hoping to see a familiar one. With friends scattered across the globe, it feels likely that I will run into someone, although it has not happened yet.
My reading on the way here, A Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. A people in the future who have made comfort and happiness their God, doing their best to keep all their relationships shallow and safe. My reading on the way back, as I return to my home and husband tonight, Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott.
Caught in the words between the front and back covers of a book.
Caught in the air between here and there.
The spaces between here and there are where we learn, grow and heal.
It’s easy to rush forward toward the next big thing, but I’ve found that it is in the distance between that I grow. It is in the waiting, suspension and discipline it takes to move from here to there that I grow.
Do you enjoy flying? Are you in the distance between in your life – a season of waiting?
I love hearing from you.