I am not a mother yet…but I am pretty close. And yesterday, as turbulence bullied our plane, I experienced a panic I have never felt before. It may have been elevated hormones, which is common for adoptive moms, but I think it is this season. I have a new fear of death and injure that erupts when I am driving with the boys in the car, alone in our new house, and, as discovered yesterday, when the plane rides get bumpy. As much as I would like to fight the reality of my life sometimes (more often than I like about myself), and I would argue that this is my calling, I know that this is my purpose. Do I find my purpose in my brothers? No. There are so many other things to find my purpose in. But am I called to the purpose of raising them, even if it is just for the next six months? Yes. Absolutely. And the thought of leaving my purpose unfulfilled, and leaving my brothers in the way of harm and uncertainty, drives me to fear. I can’t imagine what the feelings will be when turbulence hits and I have my own children. 

But, earlier, as soon as I stepped away from my drop off and onto the grounds of the airport, making my way through security, a giddiness struck my heart quickly, rushingly. I couldn’t stand it; i was so excited to just get on a place-no matter where it was heading. So I probably looked a little odd to the security people, bouncing and with a dumb grin stretching ear to ear, but I just could not stand it. It was like a piece of my soul was back:  just for a little; but it was back nonetheless. And it was me. And it was mine. And sitting on the plane, watching the grudging faces of passengers, I stared out the window for three hours. To everyone else, this is just another plane ride. Some going home to family, so going back to school, some on business; the one thing they have in common is the blank stare of routine stealing their joy and giddiness at the fact that this machine is taking hundreds of people thousands of feet in the air and to another state. 

But, to me, this was a spiritual moment. A moment of escape. A time of stepping back into childhood [because I am realizing more and more these days that I am just that: a child. I am just living a grownup life]. It was three hours of looking out my window, admiring the consistent gleam of lights. City lights. Slowly disappearing as the hours passed and the land was falling asleep. 

And, to be honest, I started the plane ride with a prayer: please speak to me, God. Oh God, you are so good.  Thank you for this, God. Please, God just speak to me while I am here. I am all yours. 

And I had to stop myself. I was creating my own spiritual experience, when The Experience was right there in front of me. I silenced my soul, and trusted my ability to actively listen to the Spirit around me, and set my heart to rest in the truth that every breath is my prayer. Every smile is my thank you. I am not saying it is bad to acknowledge the presence of God-but I know that it was not necessary at this time. I knew he was there in every moment. I was sharing this experience with Someone: with the One who created it for me to enjoy. 

And, just as much as he delights in my times of conversing with him, he delights in watching me receive and delight in the gifts he places before me.