Puddle Jumper

So here I am in Seattle, awaiting the next leg of my trip to Spokane. Did I mention it is in the 4o's here and is supposed to snow in Spokane 2 of the 4 days we are there? Shock to my system. Brrr...

So I am looking out the window at my plane and I see propellers. Propellers. I don't do propellers. Dear Lord, please help me! Do you know the last time I did do propellers? Why would I even remember such a thing? Well it was summer of 2001...and it resulted in a serious panic attack. Hyperventilating and the whole nine yards. It was scary. And I was determined I would drive all the way home from Chicago and never get on one again! I have no idea where this panic attack came from. It was pre 9/11, so it didn't have anything to do with that. I have flown at least once a year since the time I was in my mommy's tummy. I started flying alone at the age of 12. I'm no stranger to travelling...even internationally. So I am not sure why that day I just knew that plane was going down! It was a pretty bumpy flight. The flight attendant tried to comfort me by telling me to imagine the plane was like a roller coaster. Okay?!? How stupid is that? I think I said something like, ya...it is sort of missing the key component of a roller coaster...like...THE TRACK...that is firmly fixed to the ground!! Not helpful!

Anyway, I made it through and have flown numerous times since...even internationally...with the aide of a little pill...a tiny amazing pill...just .25 mg...XANAX! Wow, that stuff is amazing. You take it and within minutes you just don't care about anything. Plane going down? That's no big deal. BUT, this is the first time since that awful panic attack that I have braved the puddle jumper. I have been convicted of my dependency on the little white pill, even though I only take it for flight anxiety. I mean my trust is in such a higher power than a .25 mg pill. The Lord is lord even over the planes in the skies. It was during a mission trip to Peru that I was most convicted. I was talking in rough Spanish with one of the local Quechuans that we were ministering to. Somehow my issues with flying came up. As a new believer he couldn't believe that I had that fear as a fellow believer. He pointed to my heart and told me that as long as I had Jesus there, I shouldn't be afraid. Don't you just love going on a mission trip to serve and end up being super encouraged by the people you are there serving?!?

What he said is true. So why the Xanax? Well, I'll explain it like this. With Jesus in my heart, I am not scared of dying. I am ready to experience heaven in the splendor of my Savior. It's not my life ending that scares me. My fear is the crash itself people!! Anybody with me?

Okay. I am so glad I typed this enlightening post right before I get to walk down the stairs, onto the tarmac, and up onto this puddle jumper. Yep, there isn't exactly a sky walk to this beauty of a jumbo plane!!! I just hope the pilot isn't wearing a scarf and goggles.