Wings of Morning

If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall Thy hand lead me, and Thy right hand shall hold me. (Pslam 139: 9, 19, NKJV)

I love this verse. And after returning from a writer's conference in Denver last week, I really appreciated it more. I flew out the morning after hurricane Ivan blew in west of us. All the flights before and after me were cancelled. Every hub but Delta was dark.

"Is the flight still on time?"

A kind man grabbed my bag and sort of waved me along. "Yep. You coming?"

Sure. Of course. I mean it's not we were flying into the storm, right? We were going to Atlanta. And besides, like my husband so stoically informed me, they have to fly over the hurricanes to take those cool "eye of the storm" photos. So yeah, I'm coming, Queen of the Carry-On bag, hoping that me and the check-in stuff all arrives at the same place.

On the plane, the biggest, brightest looking young man sat next to me, all full of smiles and freckles. He looked like an ad for Young Life or the Future Christian Leaders of America if there is such a thing. He tucked all six-feet something of himself into the seat, looking confident and secure. I smiled, but trembled a little, realizing that I was actually going to the conference and what that might mean. For the past few days, I'd only concentrated on whether or not the planes were flying and if I still had a seat. Now, none of it seemed too important and there was still my hair to untwist and my afro to create so I did the noble thing and went to sleep...

I guess that was a good idea, that nap, but when I woke up to the plane being dribbled through the sky like basketball, sleep was no longer an option. Mr. Future President looked smaller all of the sudden as he leaned toward me.

"You're praying, right?"

I nodded, wondering how he knew. (Perhaps if I was sitting next to a big, black woman with a Bible the size of Texas, I'd be hoping she was praying too) As we skittered around the sky like a flea instead of a jumbo jet, I sat in awe of God's power, that His breath alone could sweep the heavens clean. There was a tornado below us, they said and a hurricane under that. Everyone looked down, but no one dared speak.

Everyone but me.

I looked up, out. We passed a cloud that looked like a giant hand with fingers curled around the plane's wings. We bounced again, harder this time. I closed my eyes, knowing that regardless, He was there. Here.

As we landed, I woke up, just in time for my next flight. We all shuffled off, thanking the pilot and crew for their diligent flying. Some paused in the walkway to take a deep breath, others ran to their loved ones and clung tight. I moved slow at first and then picked up speed as I felt a shout forming in my belly, a praise shooting up my throat. He'd been with me again, even on the wings of the morning.