I sit amid silver glints streaking through cloud and sky. My heart races as I see the green and brown of earth melt into the blue horizon on all sides. The roar of engine and air fills my head and mixes with the acrid heady smell of fuel and hot metal. Ever so gently this flash of silver floats earthward and alights the gound once more.
I bask in the warmth of my wife’s smile, the aroma of the food she cooked filles the house. My children are making foolish noises at each other across the table. My work for the day is done, I can rest, relax, enjoy dinner with my family. I pray over the food. My wife tells me about her day, my children each tell me something that interests them at the moment. I mostly just listen quietly, only asking a few questions here and there.
I have to there be early. I have to help set up. Arrange the chairs just so. Make sure the food supplies are moved to the kitchen. I listen to my wife play preludes on the piano while I bustle around. The service begins. The chair I sit in is uncomfortable, it hurts my back. But then… oh then when we sing!
“Do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”