A Blog About My Ridiculous Fear of Flying

There’s something that fascinates me about how God paints a unique picture every day with clouds – or a lack of clouds. I enjoy mountains and lakes and forests, but they don’t change much in one person’s lifetime. Clouds, though, are in a constant state of modification, and I find myself snapping several pictures a week in an attempt to capture our ever changing, Colorado skies. These photos are often taken from my car, on a short trek, or in a plane.

I’m genuinely terrified of flying. I easily get claustrophobic, so sandwiching myself in with hundreds of other people upsets my delicate internal balance. In fact, the entire ordeal reminds me of Corrie ten Boom’s stories of hundreds of fellow prisoners being jammed into train cars like sardines in a tin can. Being in close proximity to strangers is hard enough with air flow and bathrooms. I can’t imagine how hard it was without air flow and bathrooms surrounded by deathly ill people who hadn’t showered or brushed their teeth in months, maybe years. So while modern day flights remind me of Corrie’s historical, horrific experience, I am also keenly aware of how fortunate I am that the uncomfortable experience of flying is as comfortable as it is, if that makes sense.

What rattles me most is take off. There’s something painfully unnatural about climbing thousands of feet within minutes and I often find myself squelching an overwhelming desire to stand up and shout, “I was never meant to defy gravity!! Get me off this wicked contraption, you kidnappers, or I will stab you with my eyebrow pluckers!” But alas, the hiney stays put, mostly out of a desire to not make a fool of myself and whoever I’m with. Besides. I’ve paid hundreds of dollars to torture myself, and by golly, I’m going to torture myself!

Typically, I cope by busying myself. I pretend I’m simply in a box the size of two airline seats, just me and my travel buddy, and I mentally block out the other passengers. If I can get a window seat, I do. Because if I can see the clouds, it reminds me that the box is temporary – that there’s still a crazy-gorgeous outside with flat lands and hills and mountains, and in a few hours, I’ll be roaming them once more. I read. I close my eyes and try to sleep. I put the air on full blast until I’m so frozen I would rather suffocate.

Unless it’s dark outside, I spend a lot of time looking out the window. Peering out is a painful reminder that I’ve willingly allowed a pilot to propel me into the atmosphere (and that my guts are queasy!), but it also gets my mind on the Creator. When I see clouds below me rather than above, I wonder ….

How does He make them? Why did He decide to make the clouds look like puffs of popcorn today? Why does He allow mankind to escalate to these heights of creation and blast through said puffs of popcorn?

Maybe He just wants to give us a bird’s eye view.

Our Pastor always talks about a bird’s eye view vs. a bug’s eye view when it comes to theology. They’re vastly different, but both are important. Same with a literal, earthly view. It’s helpful to be in the trees and grass, looking up at the clouds. It’s also helpful to be in the clouds, looking down at the trees and grass. Both show the Creator’s handiwork, but at different angles. Wherever we are, there His handiwork is. We can’t escape it. Creation is mysterious, fascinating, and beautiful. If we are honest, it always points us to a Creator. It’s one of the ways God reveals Himself to us, and it behooves us to straight up acknowledge who’s responsible for whatever atmosphere we find ourselves. Wherever we are, we are enveloped by the amazing work of a big, intelligent God.

That’s what allows me to remain firmly planted in my airplane seat: God’s omnipresence.

Where shall I go from your Spirit?
    Or where ^B)”>shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
    ^D)”>If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
    and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
 even there your hand shall ^E)”>lead me,
    and your right hand shall hold me.
 If I say,“Surely the darkness shall cover me,
    and the light about me be night,”
even the darkness is not dark to you;
    the night is bright as the day,
    for darkness is as light with you.

And so … 

When I look down and see clouds like puffs of popcorn, I think, Lord, you are just as much with me here as when my feet were firmly planted on the ground. On the bright side, if I die up here, you won’t have so far to travel to usher me into Heaven. And in some sweet way, flying high makes me feel closer to you.

My tensions ease,
My worries cease, 
Gone is the fear of heights disease.

Until ……………………………….Turbulence!!!

And then we’re back to square one.

Every. 

Single.

Flight.  

The struggle is real, people.