The two legs added up to eighteen-plus hours in the air. It was a long day that never seemed to end. I knew there would be an end to this, although my patience and confidence were being tested by time and turbulence. The time in confinement opened a door for planning my days to come and thinking through the practical realities of what I would need to do on landing. The farther out I looked, the more uncertain everything became. With doubts and uncertainty, I paused to let life share her observations.
Life is relentlessly engaging. There are no pauses. Even when it is dark, and one might imagine that things would slow down given the need to recharge, life marches on without missing a step. On the moving train, I hear a call to act. The good news is that others have come before me so that I can learn from their example. I find hope in knowing the wisdom fathers planned and shared their insights when their time was short; “By an act of faith, Joseph, while dying, prophesied the exodus of Israel, and made arrangements for his own burial.” (Hebrews 11.22) I have time. I can be intentional. I can learn, grow, and share.
Life comes with risks. Turbulence when flying is a tangible reminder that my safety is often in the hands of others. When the plane is shaking and bouncing, I am calmed by my trust in Divinity’s engagement in my life. It is not about a naïve certainty in knowing every detail. It is the experiential certainty that the love, kindness, and care I have experienced will continue beyond the horizon that I can see or imagine. With risks I can see and feel, I know more are ahead, waiting for me in the darkness. Each is a distraction to this moment and the decision I need to take about the steps I will take.
Life is an opportunity. I am excited about what is to come. I anticipate a friend’s hug, a child’s laugh, and the experience of hope.
