It just feels good to be going somewhere...to get out of the atmosphere that has become so terribly tragic. To be going anywhere feels nice. I usually sit under this sky at home and watch the planes dart across the sky leaving their marks as they scratch the sky. I always wonder where they are going. I always wish I could be going someplace to. Anywhere but here, just for a while.
So here I am. Eating a tiny bag of preztels, trying to hold my desire to use the bathroom because I have already gone once and people have to get up to let me out. No turbulence. This is what most people dream of: To live their lives without turbulence, and without struggle. It would be nice, but then what would set us apart from each other? Our lives are best defined by the way we stand or fall during times of personal and universal crisis. We need them to build character. There is this little neighborhood in Livonia, where all the houses are different and trees line it's streets in random fashion. The houses aren't huge, but they look like home, and smell like home. The differences give them meaning. Our differences give us meaning.
My first time on a plane. I freaked out with every shake of that plane. I would lool around and no one was even looking up from their magazines. They had experienced enough turbulence to know it was no big deal. Take a person who has never had adversity in their lives and give them crisis and they may lose it while thos around them that have been there know there is another side of peace to the storm. We are the ones that God uses to calm those in crisis.
-- Sent from my Palm Prē