The Day I Died, Compliments of Delta


  I used to say that the only condition in which I would ever consider getting on a plane is if it were a life or death situation. On the final day of February 2012, that prediction became a reality. As I found myself soaring at unfathomable heights toward a foreign land, I realized that the one who was dying was me. That realization didn’t sink in it all at once though, it came in waves and rolls and sudden turmoil, much like the journey I was about to begin.

There I sat, window seat, on my first flight ever with my husband and our daughter, who had both flown before. What had started in the very early morning hours as an exciting adventure, albeit a little nerve-wracking with the whole security and boarding procedure was now taking a turn for, “What were you thinking, Deanna?” The excitement was giving way to reality and I was very aware that there was no turning back now. I don’t care what anyone else on that plane says, my first flight was not a most welcoming one. For one thing, the inside of an airplane is so much smaller than what they portray on T.V. Why I wouldn’t have guessed that, or why my husband wouldn’t have warned me, I don’t know. But for someone who is claustrophobic and experiencing this whole flying thing for the first time, it wasn’t at all what I was hoping for. However, Tim was very understanding (and probably feeling a little guilty for not adequately preparing me) and talked me through everything that was happening:  from the clunking of the landing wheels to the rush of air being sucked out of my lungs at take-off and even into the first little waves of turbulence. And had that been the extent of my first experience on an airplane, I would have considered it a successful one. Instead, it was right after several more jolts of turbulence had rocked the aircraft when the captain’s voice came on over the intercom; he apologizes in advance for the flight ahead and then, much to my already borderline panic, asks the flight attendants to also take their seats and for everyone to secure their seat belts. No one, it seems, including Tim and Emily are remotely affected by this, which tends to irritate me just a little bit more. This unexpected development did nothing productive for me and a warm reassurance did not come over me at this point - or at any point thereafter. Nor did it help to be told repeatedly, “it’s just like hitting pot holes on a road.” Okay, I get the analogy and while I appreciate your effort, I can survive pot holes! And as an added bonus they don’t flood my stomach with nausea and fear. I was sure that this stretch of lofty and looming skies was endowed with more 'pot holes' than a California highway after an earthquake. So for the next hour and a half I did a little hyperventilating and fake smiling, and whole lot of embedding my nails into my palms and intense private praying. I was truly never more glad to see land than when we began to descend into Atlanta. I didn't even care if it was a rough landing at this point, just as long as we landed at all.  I had no idea how I was going to get on our second flight without being knocked out first.

After joining the rest of our mission team in the terminal, I was pleased to hear at least one other person say, “That was a rough ride wasn’t it?” The fact that she was a business woman and seasoned traveler completely validated my feelings,  “YES, YES in fact it was!” I was screaming on the inside. But instead I heard my voice squeak a meager, “Oh, well it wasn't as smooth as I had expected .”  Only God and I knew at this point what an obstacle this gripping fear still was for me; I felt my sense of adventure begin to fade while we waited for our second and longer flight from Atlanta to San Pedro, Honduras.

At least for that second flight I was a little more prepared for the confined area I was entering and more accustomed to the sights and sounds around me. Not wanting to be made fun of or left in the city-sized, Atlanta airport by myself was also a big incentive for not protesting the next flight. More importantly, even if my heart faltered I knew that I was following God’s lead. With only His strength to carry me, I was somehow able to walk onto the next plane. 

It had taken four long years, trusting God with all financial and health obstacles that remained, and the demise of my pride,to bring me to this point. I knew I was meant to be on this trip and that God’s hand had orchestrated it. That comforting thought led to another and before long I was remembering my proclamation  about only getting on an airplane in the event of someone’s death. While we glided effortlessly through the clouds on this leg of the journey, the realization dawned that with every mile behind me and every step before me, I was the one who was dying; leaving behind my old worn-with-worry self and welcoming a new, trusting and eager version who God intended from the start.

For many years I had enjoyed living a blessed life, a comfortable and safe one where I was in control of the everyday events. But I wasn’t really living. Slowly I had drifted toward a life of stagnant complacency and eventual discontent. Have you been there? Not everything, but some of what I had been living for became less satisfying and more constricting. I was suffocating in the life I created for myself and I needed an outlet. Out of all that I had taken for granted, out of my safety net and into something more satisfying and meaningful. For the present moment, that ‘something more’ included venturing into an airplane bound for a distant and unknown land. Why? Because God was asking me to and the box I had been keeping Him no longer satisfied my spiritual hunger. It was never meant to. My comfort zone wasn't so comfortable anymore.

  

I could have lived a lifetime joyfully raising my kids, teaching Bible classes, studying and gaining more knowledge, but not until I exchanged my life of self-preservation for one of surrendered faith would I ever really experience the Christian life.

The one fear greater than giving up control, was the same fear that proprelled me forward now – the fear of living outside of God’s will and never knowing all He had waiting for me to discover.

I was so tired of sitting at life's departure gate waiting for my “purpose” to land at my feet. God answered with “Your purpose is to trust me and follow me out of your comfort zone and just see what I have waiting…”

And so I did, I followed Him and found myself in the one place I said I would never go - on an airplane. And that's the very place He needed me to be willing to go. If that meant dying in a plane crash than at least it was on my way to fulfill His plan and I was at peace with that. Because honestly, it doesn't matter what our own personal wants or fears are, the safest place will always be in the midst of God's will and not our own. I had a feeling though that there was to be more to this trip than dying to myself at hundreds of thousands of feet in the air.

Thankfully, I was right and the flight to Honduras was much smoother and void of any drama. I still wasn't any more fond of flying than when this day began but I was a different person upon arrival than who I was when we departed that morning. Somewhere in the beautiful blue above, I had died to self and all it's lies and was now living with a peace I couldn't explain, a joy I couldn't contain and a hope I had never known.  

As my feet touched the warm foreign soil of Honduras, I knew that the adventure of my faith resurrection was about to begin.

" Then Jesus told his disciples, 'If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it."  ~ Matthew 16:24-25