From the Emerald City to Oz

Sometimes God’s grace comes in the form of a hot air balloon on a foggy Saturday morning.

“It could sort of be related to the Wizard of Oz,” Laura hints as I try to guess the “birthday surprise” that’s been booked on my calendar for a month.

“Flying monkeys?!” A solid guess, right?

I’ve been studying impatience lately. My impatience. Reading through a devotional book with a good friend—a book on change, a book on hope. My focus is impatience. It’s my big weakness that leads to other weaknesses. It hits fast and hard, and before I know it, I am standing at the end of the bridge crying that I have no control over my life. Thank God I don’t! The funny conundrum is just that I won’t stop having these moments until I fully recognize my lack of control and stop trying to gain it.

Friday morning, I came in from walking Pickle. A bouquet of flowers awaited with a card that read, “Here is your hint: We live in the Emerald City; somewhere over the rainbow.” I had a guess, but it seemed too crazy, too extreme.

We woke up at 5am. On a Saturday. Dressed, drove, and arrived.

“Pull into the McDonald’s on the right,” Laura directed. McDonald’s? wha-? Then I saw them—two vans, each with a trailer pulling a large basket. My wildest guess was true! Hot air balloons.

The other passengers’ conversations purred in sleepy excitement. We arrived at the site, and the pilots sent a balloon up to check the wind. A few minutes later, the pilot came back, “We’re going to have to bag it, folks.” My heart sank. All of that excitement for nothing?!  The sky was heavily cloudy with a light drizzle of rain.

Disappointed, we drove back to Seattle. They called us later that morning to say they had flight openings that night. Laura had plans with Kyle that were really important to him. Impatient Natalie wanted to say, No! This is our only chance! But instead, I told Laura that was how I felt, but I knew that I was just being impatient. So I prayed about it and asked to trust that regardless of what happened—if we flew or not!—God’s plan is good, way better than I could plan. And it was the fastest answer to prayer I’ve ever witnessed.

That afternoon, they called again—we could fly the next evening when we were all available.

I have to admit, I felt pretty silly asking for God’s good plan to work out with something as inordinary yet first-world as a hot air balloon ride.

We arrived, watched them inflate the giant canvas, and climbed into the levitating basket. Soon enough, we were floating. In a simply smooth lift, we started going up. At first, I felt a panicked excitement: what is this that we are so high yet bound by nothing? What if I fall?

Once we reached our peak at 4,000ft, we were used to the feel of being in the basket. The evening was bright and clear with a SouthEast wind. Mt. Baker stood to the North of us; Mt. Rainier lay across the South. Seattle was like a little row of jelly beans sitting next to the water. We could see more islands than I could name. The sun was nearing dusk, displaying creation’s best colors.

We landed smoothly, safely—after our pilot patiently searched the upcoming miles for open land among the trees.

The pilots drove us back to our meeting place—not McDonalds this time, but Matthews Winery, where we enjoyed a complimentary tasting. Sipping Syrah and still envisioning the survey of land  & sky when I closed my eyes, I thanked God for such a beautiful day and for the patience to wait and the excitement that goes along with it.

So much better than a foggy Saturday morning. 

(Did I mention that I'm twenty-two. I think all of my fears that came with that number feel recovered by staring my own mortality in the face in the form of a 4,000 ft. drop with nothing to hold me in. Numbers are nonsense. When Derek turned twenty-two, we celebrated, not knowing it would be his last birthday. I'm celebrating too; here's to being twenty-two.)

death, i think, is no parenthesis (cummings)