23 January 2018, 9pm (somewhere over the Atlantic)
Seat 38G, middle seat in the middle row and my flight leaves at 6:25pm. That means no window seat and no sunset. Yet here I am. Aboard the plane at 5:55, watching the last of the sunset through the window... adjacent to my seat. I am now 30,000+ feet in the air getting a taste of the -62 degrees temperature through the window pane, traveling 555 mph in utter darkness wondering "how... on.... earth?" The constant roar of the plane has become a calming background noise, and the blue hue of the lights calls me to sleep (which I really should be doing). My feet stretch across the seats covered by a blanket and my back presses against the arm rest with my pillow in between. Afraid I might forget, I write while it’s still fresh.
Take Off
It still amazes me. Just outside the window hundreds of tiny flashing lights alternate, covering the ground. Red, blue, and green guide our plane to wherever it’s supposed to take off from. The engine starts and we propel forward. How can something so huge pick up speed this fast? My heart anticipates lift off. We speed along this runway for miles (or so it feels) I wonder if I'll even feel it? And then, like a quick gasp; sharp and smooth, we’re off the ground. Just like that my very being lifts off too. There are only 50 faces on this massive plane and mine was the only one glued to the window, hand cupped around my eyes to block out the reflection of the white light above me. The sun set, and it 's completely dark, all I see are city lights. Getting smaller and smaller the yellow rubbish colors form perfect lines from above. I-540 looked like a never-ending slithering snake. South Point Mall outlined to make a blue polygon. I counted at least 6 suburban basketball courts all blue, with those really strong stadium lights, and once massive neighborhoods now looked the size of a sand box. Everything was perfectly mapped out, and I watched as the familiar turned into the unfamiliar. In a matter of what felt like minutes, I looked out again and the East Coast shrank as the Atlantic Ocean filled the space of my window. As I write, the flight attendants keep walking past asking if I’m done with my meal. I’m not, how can you eat at a time like this? I need to process.
24 January 2018, 7am (London, UK)
I'm sitting at the meeting point right outside baggage claims, (which is where i'll be sitting for the next 7 hours). Below is a continuation of the beauty I experienced in flying.
Landing
Looking at the map on my screen, we have 40 minutes 'til landing. 5 hours over the ocean and I spy land again. I open my window shade to try and see something besides my reflection in darkness. A small cloud and a light flickering way below. I re-position my face to gaze out the window for the next 30 minutes because what I'm soon to witness is worth getting a crook in the neck for. The window pane is cold, the mix between way-below freezing temps and the plane's high speed send a fierce breeze sneaking through the cracks. I don’t really mind all that much because creation is putting on a show and I've got a window seat! The right wing tilts up and I see the night sky. Not black, but a beautiful deep navy with a calming blue accent. Does it always look like that? Then the wing tips down, my insides shift and I see yellow-golden lights sporadically calling attention to my eyes. I can’t make out much, but I imagine I’m looking at a bunch of peninsulas. Peninsulas and seas. Wispy cream colored clouds travel in groups below us. I can’t find the stars. My tummy is left suspended between its original place and my rib-cage, as my body descends with the plane. The city, rather, a city comes into view and I marvel at the fact that this is uncharted territory. Worlds for me to wander through. This is God’s creation laid out for my hands to feel what He’s crafted, my lungs to pump the air never before inhaled, my taste buds to devour whatever food lays in my path, my eyes to internalize sight after sight, beauty after beauty. My soul to taste and see His goodness in a new way. We go lower and lower and lower till we’re right above a thicket of white clouds. I'm not looking down anymore, looking straight out as far as my eyes allow me to see. It was glorious. The faintest pink you can imagine mixed with a soft purple. Their colors played out strong, deep. Beckoning all things to acknowledge it’s display. Outlines of clouds covered the morning sun, which hid away until sunrise. The whole sky reflected this beauty, with soft purple and tranquil creams tangled up in drifting clouds. How is there so much color in this night sky? Below the white blanket laid a whole country missing out on the wonders above. Blinded by overcast they miss the extravagant show of creation that goes on just above their heads. We descend again. One last glance before our plane delves into the white thickness. (Whoever thinks white is not a color obviously hasn't been in the middle of it). Landing feels exactly like a roller coaster and I do all I can not to scream with excitement (because that would just be awkward for everyone). So I smile and continuously rejoice and give thanks to the Giver of all good and perfect gifts. Refusing to let myself question why He chose to lavish love on a girl whose done nothing to deserve it, I let His love fill me up, over the brim and pray that it overflows into all I do. The wheels hit the ground, and the turbulence comforts me in a strange way, kind of reminding me Who is really in control.