This is the final post of the Everywhere series.
Flying is a love/hate relationship.
On the one hand, it allows us to travel beyond our wildest dreams and experience adventures that await in far away lands.
But before those dreams and adventures are realized, you have to sit in a confined space for hours while a small child kicks your seat from behind and a large man reclines his seat in your lap.
Tack on the rules and guidelines that you must follow before even stepping foot in an airport, let alone a plane, and it can make you want to throw your hands in the air and rent a car with Enterprise — I’ve heard they pick you up!
But if it’s a drive longer than 5 hours, ain’t nobody got time for that.
So off to the airport I go.
Prepare for takeoff.
I remember one particular travel day, we were told, in advance, to prepare ourselves for turbulent weather. And if you’ve ever been on a flight where you experience bad weather, you know just how terrifying it can be.
So before we even took off, I was already anxious.
Bad weather means delayed (or cancelled) flights, extended travel days, a bumpy ride, and a slow – but sure – hatred towards airline snacks.
Please, no more peanuts.
As I sat down and peeked out of the window, the view was as you might have expected. It was dark, wet and a touch depressing, and I remember thinking ‘we’re about to fly into this?’
Before too long, we were moving away from the gate and began taxing to our spot in line on the runway. The flight attendants had walked through the aisle to make sure our seat backs were in the upright position and seat belts were securely fastened. The announcement was made to put all phones in airplane mode, but I know their game. I’ve got at least a few more minutes on Instagram before I have to shut myself off from the world for 2 hours, and these insta-stories won’t watch themselves.
It was at this time the captain came over the intercom to once again tell us that we will be flying through some storms. At least, that’s what I think he said. I’m convinced there is some captain code which states that all captains must mumble under their breath, quickly and quietly, making any announcement unintelligible and a sheer guessing game.
Hope I didn’t miss anything important!
Ladies and gentlemen, we are ready for takeoff.
Besides my ears popping, we’re doing pretty good.
Sure, I can’t check Insta (because your girl doesn’t pay for in-flight WiFi), but I’ll manage. On this initial ascension is where I like to look out and view the city below.
I was met with the same dark, wet, depressing view, so I closed my window shade for a bit.
We still had a ways to go.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the fasten seatbelt sign is illuminated, so please remain in your seats. Flight attendants, please return to your seats as we are going through a bit of rough air.”
Not sure why I decided to look out of this window this time, because it did nothing to calm me. My previous views, be they dark and drab-like, were completely gone.
In its place was a big view of nothing. I had no clear view of anything. Only dark, angry clouds that looked as though we disrupted their sleep and were ready to fight.
I quickly closed the window and white-knuckled the armrest.
We still had a ways to go.
At last, we made it.
36,000(ish) feet above the ground and smooth(ish) sailing for the rest of the trip.
This time, when I dared to look out of my window, I was met with a completely different view.
We were no longer flying through those dark, angry storm clouds. Instead, we were met with the fluffiest and brightest pillows that were happy to see us and longed to give us the biggest cloud-hug.
And not to be outdone by those clouds was, of course, the *star* of the show.
The light-shining, warmth-giving sun.
It was always there.
During the mumbled takeoff speech, ornery clouds and shaky turbulence.
It didn’t leave when the storm came. Rather, the clouds were just covering it up, making me think the sun took a break and wouldn’t be coming out to play that day.
But there it was.
That big ole ball of light was always there.
Many times, we may wonder where God is during the storms.
I know I do.
But as I flew home that day, I was shown a clear reminder that the sun in the sky – and the Son in Heaven – are always there.
He is the Light that drives out darkness and promised to never leave.
I sat with that thought for the next hour, as I laid my head down on the window, and enjoyed the literal ray of sunshine on my face.
Soon, as we began to descend back into the storm to land, I wouldn’t feel those rays on my cheek anymore. But this flight reminded me that, even though I may not feel it, it’s still there.
Just like He’s still here.