It all started with a bump.
About ten years ago one large bump birthed fear.
Granted, it was the middle of the night and I was flying thousands of feet above the chilly Atlantic Ocean with my entire family, but truly it was just a little bit of jolting and rocking.
I awoke in the middle of the night to turbulence on my way to Europe and for some reason it really freaked me out.
Every jolt, drop and shake reawakened me to the idea that if this plane fell out of the sky, I and my family would die.
This logical yet unlikely fear lodged in my mind, setting up housekeeping to torture me every time I got on a plane.
In these last few years I've been attacking this unwelcome guest through prayer: laboring while I fly, trying to trust my Lord.
To trust that it is His Hand which holds me up in the air and it will be His Hand alone which will someday draw me home.
I am at all times safe in His embrace.
but it took work, focus, reminders
- telling my heart to not jump and my respiration to regulate.
Well, this trip was not work.
On a scant two and a half hours of sleep,
with eyes as rosy red as my cheeks (and as dry),
I relaxed and enjoyed a cross country flight.
We experienced turbulence and I was not turbulent.
my heart did not flutter with every jolt.
and relished flying in my Savior's Hand.