The Window Seat

I could use a window seat, to spread a canvas for my thoughts.

This dark and lonely night echoes what I feel within.

But through the window, this great big world seems small enough to hold in my hand.

It can’t be that endless and wild, can it?

Every light, a speck, often lost across the landscape.

A city is but a collection of these specks. I feel like if I took a breath and blew it down, they’d scatter like a dandelion’s seeds.

At this height, with the night, there is only light or dark, black and white.

At thirty thousand feet, through this temporary looking glass, life is simple.

For a handful of hours, this simple life seems so attractive. Fewer decisions, fewer mistakes, fewer missed opportunities.

But this binary world ceases to exist when God turns his great lights back on, or whenever we end our elevated adventure.

It’s a thrill to sprint across the sky, with a front-row seat of this miniature world. This is simplicity, refreshing and always welcome.

But I’m grateful to return to my complexity when the time comes, for it reminds me how much I need my God in heaven.

The momentary escape to my window seat does not change the fact that life is not simple.

But I don’t need it to be, for God has already solved my most confounding conundrums, and has given all the answers in His Word.

So take heart when simplicity wanes, and take hold of the One who has never been overwhelmed.