I do not enjoy flying. Which is very unfortunate because I love to travel.
But every single time I fly, I have the exact same realization (I have shared this before but it’s worth repeating):
Flying is extremely good for me. Being buckled 23 rows back, utterly unable to do a gosh darn thing except squeeze my six-year-old’s hand, is extremely good for me.
I have this misbelief that as long as I am behind the wheel, as long as I have the kids, as long as I have the “power,” that I can make it ok. “I have got this covered, God! Don’t worry about us. I can handle the day to day, you just step in for the big things like flights and emergencies.”⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
And here’s what I am certain that The Lord, in His great patience and kindness, uses planes to show me:⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
I am no more in control behind the wheel of my own car than I am on the 23rd row of an aircraft. *I just think I am.* ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
And in recognizing that, I realize my trust in God should be ever present in my mind. He cares about the ordinary. He is not just there for the flight. He is there, daily, hammering in His goodness as we pack lunches and drive to school. If I see Him as the one carrying us safely down the street, it makes it easier to see how He carries that aircraft. He doesn’t just jump in for the big occasions.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
He is, ever and always, in the details. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Our Keeper. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Our Daily Bread.