I love to fly.
I don’t tell many people this, but I have dreams about being able to fly. Kicking off the ground with my arms extended like Superman, catapulting myself up into the air. Being able to see everything from the air and land in remote places you wouldn’t ever be able to reach by car or plane or even by pack mule.
Like this secluded little lake I saw up in the mountains near the California coast, right before we landed in San Francisco today. When the plane banked around to the left, I looked out my window and it felt like we were right on top of these cabins nestled in the woods around that lake that was the color of lapis.
The way the sun glistened on the water was so beautiful, it made my heart leap for a moment.
All the colors. The different shades of green on the hillside. The deep blue of the water in the lake. Different from the blue of the ocean we had just passed over minutes before.
Foliage of all kinds. Diverse terrains. One minute we were on top of the flat coastline, and the next we were in the hills. Hills covered with evergreens.
The view from my window seat was beautiful.
And for a moment I thought to myself, I hope heaven includes tours of the planet restored, you know, like God intended it from the beginning. Maybe we’ll all have individual jetpacks that enable us to hover over different areas so that God can tell us about what we’re seeing, about what the three of them were thinking when they created it. Maybe we’ll all be able to soar overhead and find those little remote lakes and have a picnic on a hillside.
With no ants. No flies. Eating hot dogs and my mother’s baked beans.
And for a long while, just the thought of that brought me joy. Peace. Contentment.
Maybe if you live in west Texas like I do, it doesn’t take much to thrill you. Anything green. Any sign of water in the dead of summer.
Tomorrow I’m going to fly over another part of this planet that I’ve never seen before.
With more shades of greens and blues.
I expect it will be beautiful, too.