The fog settled around the mountains and the rain drizzled.
Despite the weather, the small plane lifted and bumped up beyond the clouds.
Sitting above the propeller, I heard little above the roar and stared out the window.
I sat there, captivated, in the space in between.
The space above the water and the land and the mountaintops. The space through the clouds. The space below the heavens.
The breathtaking, soul-stilling, space in between.
I had a lot of posts already half written for today. After nine days away in the vastness of Alaska. A post about our rainy fishing trip. A post about what you discover in sleeplessness. A number of posts from insight I picked up from the multiple books I read over long flights and airport waiting areas. And yet when I sat down to write any number of them, and they will get written, all I heard in my head was the space in between.
It was more than the ventures over mountain ranges. It was nine days away from home. From my personal cell phone. From my family. From my daily job routine. From my outside commitments and community.
It was space in between. And I’ve learned a lot. I am craving less. Less on my calendar, more with my four people. Less in my home, more space to breath. Less frenzy, more quiet. But I’m processing it all.
So I’ll have more. I think. We’ll see.