"You raise me up..."

"When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary;
When troubles come and my heart burdened be;
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,
Until you come and sit awhile with me.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up: To more than I can be…."
-Josh Groban

Like most adventures in my life these days, I believe that if  I were to actually mull over them in advance…I probably wouldn't have the courage to actually go through a single one.  So it was with my trip to South Africa.  I knew that I needed, and wanted (more than anything), to go see my daughter and meet her "first" mom (face-to-face and heart-to-heart).  But getting on a plane, much less getting on four planes and traveling for more than 45 hours in 10 days seemed paralyzingly scary. 

I don't like to fly.  Period!  I don't enjoy any part of the process.  Deciding on dates, looking for fares that are less than the cost of a small eastern-european country, purchasing tickets, checking in, choosing seats, security, customs, waiting, waiting, waiting…boarding, waiting, take off, sitting, trying to get comfortable, waiting, not sleeping, waiting, turbulence, waiting, landing, disembarking, waiting, customs, waiting, waiting, security…waiting for my ride.  I never even get to think about all the wonderful things I am going to do between landing at my destination and taking off again for home…I spend most of my time thinking about how much I don't want to get back on the plane again.  It is a vicious cycle and I have been in its grip…way too many times.  I spent almost five years traveling…a lot…for my work with a national speakers' bureau (earning my platinum status on more than two airlines' frequent flyer programs)…and I vowed when that chapter was finished I would no longer travel anywhere I could not drive myself…no matter how long it took.   Little did I know at that time my daughter would decide to go live in South Africa.  Can't drive there…if you could…I would have tried.

And I haven't flown since I finished that appointment.  Other than one short flight in 2005, I have kept my feet soundly planted on terra firma since…hmmm…then it occurred to me…it was since 2001.  Actually it was since mid-September of 2001.  Even my 2005 flight was less than two hours and it was just one way…and I got on kicking and screaming inside…and only because I couldn't drive to my destination at the very last minute.  If it hadn't been a commitment that I absolutely couldn't cancel…I would have tried…well, actually I did try and then saw that I would have been letting people I loved down in a big way.  When plans for traveling to South Africa began to percolate I suddenly realized that even though I didn't think 9/11 had effected the way I lived my life…it had.  In a very sub-conscious way I had decided that I would not fly any longer…and had never connected that decision to 9/11.  Hmmm. 

Here's how it finally came to a place of healing for me.  I was sitting in my cabin at camp this past June and my husband was on the phone trying to get me to commit to a flight schedule for my trip to South Africa.  But I was doing every thing I could to avoid his request for a confirmation of times and dates.  At the same time, I was offering my daughter an "out"…instead of coming over in July, I could come for two weeks at Christmas-time rather than 10 days now…and I was sweating bullets every time I even thought about flight schedules.  I needed to make a commitment and so what did I do…I convinced Hannah and Jeff that a trip this summer was just not good timing.  And then I realized how relieved I felt.  "Ahhh..." you think…but no, this was not a good kind of relief.    It's the kind of relief that is just the avoidance of something that needs deeper healing.  It's the feeling that says, "Whew, I escaped that…" and it's a feeling that I've come to recognize as the sure sign that I need to reconsider a decision.

So, I called someone I knew would hold my toes to the fire…my daughter's birthmom…for many reasons I had grown to trust that she was putting our daughter's needs above everything else…this time that included my own unspoken fears. I asked her if she thought it would be better for me to come in December and she said, "absolutely not…now is the right time…no matter how hard it is, we'll figure it out".  Little did she know that the "hard" (at that moment) was not about the uncertain dynamics of Hannah having both of her moms in the same room.  That "hard" had never crossed my mind, and it never crossed our path.  But I digress...I do that alot on this blog.  So to get back on track...she said, "absolutely not...now is the right time...no matter how hard it is, we'll figure it out."

Hmmm…allrighty then.  I had known in my heart that this was true, I guess I needed someone to override my terror.

The minute I got off the phone with her I picked up the phone and called my husband to say, "Book it".  Then I started to pray.  I became very still and just listened with all my heart.  Waiting in the silence was like sitting on my porch early in the morning when the clouds are still hanging low and watching as they lift and disperse.  And it was in the space of this silence that I realized what really had me paralyzed with fear about flying.  It was not a specific fear, like, "I am afraid that terrorists will be on board", or "I am afraid that we will crash into the ocean".  No, that would have been obvious enough for me to actually identify, pray about and see through.  This fear was just so subtle.  I would start as a prickling of discomfort that crept over me like a swarm of ants until I felt like I could not move without inciting an ant riot that would leave me full of welts and gasping for air.  And it was this very subtlety that gave me my first clue as to how insidious the fear was…and how ridiculous. 

I had never flown…just to fly…so why would I be afraid of "just flying"…period.  I always flew with a sense of spiritual purpose…to fulfill a commitment, to help a friend, to celebrate a union, the birth of a child…to support the family of someone who had passed on.  I always traveled with intent and as Mary Baker Eddy says, "Nothing but wrong intention can hinder your advancement."

So I went back to what was my intent for this flight.  My intent was to love my daughter and to celebrate her life and her family in South Africa.  I was flying to "mother"…period.  That was when I remembered that the most peaceful, time-less, wonderful flight I had ever been on was the one I took in 1989 when I traveled by myself to South Africa to adopt Hannah in South Africa.  I never remember it as a long flight or a difficult flight, but as a blessed flight, an expectant flight, as a flight pregnant with promise. 

And this was how I began to think about this flight to South Africa.  I wasn't taking a flight…I was taking this flight.   This blessed, purposeful, divinely authorized flight to see my beloved daughter and her family.  I was being sent on this flight by God…I was not being borne blindly by steel and rubber and jet fuel through a politically-charged global environment.  I was being sent on a love-based mission via an instrument of intelligent design and through an environment full of angels, prayers, and hope.

When the day for my flight arrived I held to what the intent for this flight was and trusted that the Love which was sending me, was going to be with me every kilometer of that trip.

"O longing hearts that wait on God
   Through all the world so wide;
He knows the angels that you need,
   And sends them to your side,
   To comfort, guard and guide."
-Violet Hay

My flight was glorious.  Peace-full, purpose-full, blessed.  As we took off into the night sky above Washington D.C., and the lights of our country's capital faded like the jet stream behind us as the vast Atlantic became our landscape far below I felt as serene as if I were sitting on the porch of my cabin at camp reading the lesson while a hundred campers milled about on the lawn.  It was as if God had placed his hand under the Adirondack rocker and just...oh so gently..."raised me up" and was carrying me to my daughter.  Or as Mary Baker Eddy relates, in describing her spiritual journey, it was "sweet, calm, and buoyant with hope..."

I am so grateful…for so much...

More to come,
Kate