To Where I Would Fly

Some days I simply want to fly. If you ask me to where I would fly, my answer may be different each time.

Some days it would be to Alaska. I like Alaska even though I have never been there before. The idea of open skies, crisp air, and the purest beauty is extremely tantalizing.

Sometimes my answer may be some place where people are starving, where sickness is rampant, where pain is evident--but happiness is pure. A place where I can see that my own problems are small and that my own happiness is hungry. A place where perspective is brought back into focus.

One time it was heaven. Oh how I hungered for heaven, for home. I was tired of the world, tired of my sin, tired of my wandering feet. Heaven seemed to sing to me that day. If I could have grown wings right then, I would have flown to the heavens to be with my precious Jesus.

Yet right now, in this moment, if you were to ask me to where I would fly my answer would be none of these. Today I would fly to oblivion--the quiet place where I can be alone with my thoughts. A place where my mistakes, my sinfulness, my fears cannot follow me because there is no one there to see them and no way to act upon them.

Oblivion.

Like the calmest ocean, a sea where the sky and water have no separation.

Oblivion.

Where there is rest, where there are no emotions screaming to get out, where there is nothing demanding an answer I don't know.

I imagine finding Jesus there, in the form of a lion, walking quietly along the sand.

I imagine hearing trees rustle, water lapping, wind whispering, and...quiet.

Oblivion.

I would only stay for a short while, but those minutes would be worth it.

I would fly as I high as I could go, and then fall, feeling the wind rush past my skin, only to catch myself before I hit the water. Only to fly back up and do it again and again.

Yet I have a feeling this place would only leave me feeling more unsettled, with more questions, more unanswered demands, more roiling emotions. Because questions must be answered and conclusions must be made and people must have emotions that are both beautiful and mysterious.

And because that is the way these things are.

Oblivion, like everything else, grows old.