Airplane travel is disconcerting for some of us.  Even though my husband is a pilot and trusts those big metal tubes I have trouble wrapping my brain around the fact that 150,000 pounds of steel can float and motor through the air. I hold my breath as we are getting ready to take off, mostly because I hope the added air in my lungs will assist the buoyancy of the aircraft.

On a recent trip I had a heart flippy moment before takeoff.  After all the passengers were seated and properly tethered to the aircraft I was mentally preparing myself for the magical take off and float moment, when the plane went pitch dark and silent.  No air vents. No reading lights. Even the emergency light strips running the length of the aisle guiding me to the exit were rendered useless.  Blackness.

The flight attendant got on the radio, which apparently is pedal powered, to explain that someone had unplugged the airplane and we had to wait for it to be plugged back in to restore power.  My first thought was “The extension cord for this flight is going to kill us.”

Recently I was reading journals from my teenage years.  In page after page I saw that as a teen I relied on the same source of power that I rely on now. God. Through being a run away from a dangerous home to foster homes and living with friends my relationship with God was always a constant source of power and strength for me.

While in the psych and trauma hospital I often heard people talk about their higher power, their source of strength. Some acclaimed their family, friends or children as their power source.  I never have understood trusting in people to be my sole source of power. Every person, myself included, is imperfect. We unintentionally let each other down and often wound the ones we love. Humans are an incomplete and inconsistent power source for one another. But something in me has always known the one reliable source of strength is God. My source of power is dependable and can’t be accidentally unplugged.

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