Yesterday afternoon, the wife and I landed safely in Little Rock after a short trip to Lubbock, Texas. We are very thankful to be home, though we were both exhausted. I don’t know why; there’s no jetlag when you’re flying to Texas. Still, I think it was the tension that comes with leaving the kids behind, the pressure of driving around a strange city and the hustle and bustle that comes with a “work-trip” (as opposed to a vacation).
While in the air, I looked out the window and snapped this picture of the various plots of land owned by Texans, all arranged in neat little squares. The pattern is almost like a quilt of dark and light green, tan and brown, lines and circles. From 30,000 feet up, it was beautiful.
But I couldn’t help but long for the ground.
I’m not afraid of heights, not in the least, but I know my feet were meant to rest on solid earth. It’s a disorienting feeling when the plane leaves the ground and takes flight. It feels unnatural. Occasionally I would think of the song, “Higher Ground” and its lyric “Lord plant my feet on Higher ground.” The song isn’t about longing for the sky; it’s about longing for a new home much higher than the current. I don’t want to float or hover or glide around Heaven. I want to plant my feet and walk around it.
How about you?
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