Flying

So, I don't fly well.  And by not well, I mean, I'm holding my breath waiting for the inevitable engine failure because I am pretty much sure we're going to plummet to our death at any moment for the entire ride.  But despite this small hiccup, I like to travel.  See new places, try new things.  Well, recently, Jeff was kind enough to volunteer to watch the kids for six days so that I could go to St. Kitts, a small island in the West Indies, for a much needed break (What?!!).  I can't tell you how nice it was to sit on the beach, toes in the sand, slathered head to toe in unbreakable SPF 2000, reading, sleeping, eating food I didn't prepare, swimming in the ocean, avoiding sea urchins.

On the way there, our 737 was swerving down the runway (takeoff and landing) like the pilot had had one too many.  Or ten too many.  Or maybe we were the guinea pigs- his first real run.  Either way, I spent the entire trip trying to keep thoughts of the return flight at bay.  But, as all things do, my vacation eventually came to an end.

The flight home was perfectly flawless.  Smooth as could be, not a bump to be felt.  No dramatic engine changes (aka speed drops 150mph in three seconds flat.  Yikes!)  And yet, by the end, I was about to jump out of my skin.  I can NOT sleep on planes and had been awake for almost 24 hours straight.  I was feeling crazy anxious, like I was about to explode.  I wandered the isles for a bit, staring longingly (resentfully) at all of the sleeping passengers, and then began to pray.  I needed help to endure the next few hours.  I really felt like I couldn't do it anymore.  I know it sounds trivial, but I truly felt like I wasn't going to make it.

Right then, the pilot's voice came over the intercom announcing very professionally that the flight attendants needed to take their seats as we would be heading into a storm and were in for a bit of a bumpy ride.  As backward as it seems, this was the answer to my prayer.  The turbulence calms me.  It tricks my mind into thinking it is bumps on a road.  I spent the end of the ride totally relaxed, calm, peaceful and very thankful.

I thought a lot about that during the rest of the flight.  You know.  Because I wasn't sleeping.  Sometimes when we pray, we aren't given a calm.  We're given a storm.  It gives us a chance, and a reason, to re-ground ourselves.  Not too long ago, I found myself praying for something in our family, and rather than receiving peace, the answer came in turbulence.  

When I was in college, my roommate and good friend Nancy prayed for humility.  Then she had the WORST week.  Quite frankly, it was amazing that that many bad things could happen to one person in such a short time.  But she did get humbled.

In St. Kitts, I got a pedicure.  Time for pampering can be scarce around here!  All I wanted was for someone to massage my calves and feet, rub me down in lotion, lull me to sleep in a complete calm.  Instead, I got an intense hour of callous scraping.  Seriously.  Think Dumb and Dumber.  Not what I had in mind, but in the end, the results were better.

President Monson, in general conference, quoted the poet Douglas Malloch,

Good timber does not grow with ease,
The stronger wind, the stronger trees.
The further sky, the greater length.
The more the storm, the more the strength.
By sun and cold, by rain and snow,
In trees and men good timbers grow.

So, I don't fly well.  In planes.  Sometimes in life.  A quiet, uneventful ride is nice.  Turbulence, with some perspective, is better.