Flying Lessons

I sat in the waiting area of Alpena’s adorable airport, pretending I was an experienced traveler without a care in the world.  Inside, though, I was all a-jitter.  It had been a long time since I was on a plane.

The building didn't do much to calm my nerves.  A cute airplane decoration hangs from the ceiling near the entrance, caught in the middle of a mid-air loop.  Unfortunately, the sight of an upside-down airplane is not entirely reassuring to a nervous traveler.  I found the ceiling fans charming, decorated as they are to look like propellers, until I realized that they are doing nosedives toward the earth. I thought, as I had thought many a time on the way to the airport, that if man had been meant to fly, God would have made us with wings.

My seat was in the second-to-last row of the small plane.  I climbed over the legs of the nice lady in the aisle seat and wedged myself in under the sloped ceiling that curved menacingly over my head.  Hot air was inexplicably blowing full-force from the air vents overhead, and passengers were stripping off coats and vests and panting in the heat.  I shoved my sweatshirt down by my feet, trapping them against my computer bag. 

I scrunched down to peer out the low window at the airport people scurrying about doing very official-looking things.  A woman on a wheeled platform started spraying the tip of the wing with some sort of fluid, undoubtedly, I realized with a shudder, to ward off the possibility of the airplane freezing mid-air. 

A series of mysterious thumps was followed by a thud as the door was closed and I realized with a sinking finality that I was trapped in this small space, my head pressed against the ceiling and my legs squished between my belongings and my arm tucked in close to avoid stealing space from the woman next to me and hot air blowing on my head and forty nine sweating strangers blocking my path to the door that was shut between me and fresh air, between me and the ground that was about to drop away from under me.  I tried to breathe; it wasn't going well. 

The airplane taxied slowly to the runway like an overgrown school bus. It turned, rolled into position, and paused just long enough to let  my heart stop.  Then, with a whoosh, we were speeding forward, faster and faster.  I peeked out my little window.  The ground was there.  And then it was a little less there.  And then… and then it was down, far below, falling away ever so gently as the houses and trees and fields shrunk and slid behind us. 

We were flying.  I was, somehow, magically, up in the air, high above everything.  It was grand, and glorious, and amazing. My fears faded and melted away.  I was soaring.

Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength; they will soar on wings like eagles.  Isaiah 40:31

Man was not made to fly.  It is ridiculous to think that a person could be 2,000 feet in the air gazing down on the world, safe as if they were in their own car.  It is ridiculous, and yet it is.

I look up at birds sometimes and marvel at the effortlessness of their flight.  They lift their wings, and in a trice they are up, held by the wind.  The utter improbability of it is staggering.  Air – they are sitting on air!  Ridiculous.  Foolish.  Improbable.  And yet, there they are, soaring high above, apart from the noise of the world, peaceful and strong and free.  It shouldn't be.  And yet it is.

Sometimes it’s hard to believe in things that seem improbable.  It is hard to accept that the creator of everything could notice one of His least significant creations and care about its small, everyday problems.  It is ridiculous to think that our deepest sins, the ones that we hide from the world so carefully, could be forgiven.  It is a foolishness, when life has been everything but trustworthy, to trust in the love of Someone who wanted us so much that He died to make us His.

It’s crazy.  It makes no sense.  It shouldn't be.  And yet it is.

The inexplicable, senseless love of our unfathomable God lifts us.  It gives us strength.  It is the reason that my family was smiling through their tears at the funeral I was flying to attend.  It is the reason that I can cry out in anguish and yet be strong and full of hope.

Man was not made to fly.  It is utterly improbable.  But those who hope in the Lord….they get to soar.

First published in the Alpena News, April 5, 2014