I’m writing you from gate C6. I’m flying to meet my granddaughter for the very first time.
I’d almost, almost, rather endure my yearly visit to the gyn, than get on this oversized bumblebee. Flying is not my favorite. This didn’t used to be the case.
My first plane ride was at age 8 and was exhilarating. The stewardess wore a snappy little hat and presented me with my very own set of wings, ‘with the Captain’s best wishes.’ I remember a hazy cloud of smoke at the front of the plane because people were allowed to calm their nerves by lighting up cigarettes back then. Gentlemen wore suit coats and ladies were in slacks and dresses. There were no tank tops, yoga pants, or baggy jeans. Yes, I was privileged to get a personal glimpse of the Mad Men area.
It was the destination that called us to fly. My dad, as an active leader in the Indianapolis chapter of the Submarine Veterans of WWII, had been honored with an invitation to attend the keel laying of a brand new sub, the USS Indianapolis. We were flying to Groton, Connecticut, to attend this event with many other dignitaries, even Miss Indiana.
Now, as an adult, I am keenly aware of the pitfalls of air travel. My least favorite phrase to hear over the loud speaker, which just happened from Wilmington to Charlotte an hour ago, is “Please remain seated, we are experiencing some hazardous weather.” Honest, he used the word ‘hazardous.’ It’s like the last word I ever want to hear out of someone flying the 600 mile per hour bullet carrying me.
I’m no longer that 8 year old who sees flying as an extended amusement park ride. Yes, Yes, I know that it is statistically safer than any other form of travel. However, the consequence of air travel’s hazards are more severe even if they are less frequent. So, in spite of inner turmoil to subject myself to this anxiety, it’s the destination that calls me to the air. (Well, There’s also the time savings and frequent flyer miles which makes it free.)
Every time I step on a plane, I am excited to get where I want to go, and yet, reaching my destination is not guaranteed. I just have to trust God that he’ll pilot me whether I reach my earthly destination or it’s finally time to land in heaven. Either way, God’s got this.
It’s kind of like when I began this journey to redefine what sexuality meant to me and what sexual intimacy meant to our marriage. It was a hazardous trip. I laid my heart on the line to reach a destination that was not guaranteed.
Stepping onto the plane of changing sexual attitude was frightening. But, I knew if I didn’t step toward a new destination, the misery was going to continue. For the past 10 years, our fights had all been the same; we said the same stuff; we acted the same way and nothing ever changed. He was miserable, too, but I didn’t see that until we were mid-flight and I was finally able to look down upon our issues from an aerial perspective.
Nope, there’s no guarantees you will reach the destination you expect when you start to try see sex differently. Usually, you don’t reach the destination you expect. You actually reach a destination far better and different, because that’s how God works.
“Let the wicked forsake his way And the unrighteous man his thoughts; And let him return to the LORD, And He will have compassion on him, And to our God, For He will abundantly pardon. “For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways,” declares the LORD. “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, So are My ways higher than your ways And My thoughts than your thoughts,” Isaiah 58:7-9.
My friend, Chris, at The Forgiven Wife, has some excellent thoughts related to this topic: When I Stopped Seeing Sex as Sex.
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