View from Above

Mt. Hood

The Rocky Mountains

Just finished playing a show for an amazing missions organization, Delta Ministries, in Portland. And this is where I put the plug in and say what an amazing mission statement this organization has and how much we believe in them (and then ask you to go check out what they are doing in people's lives).

The flight in was breathtaking. At least I thought it was. (This could be because I was baby free and I could actually breath for a minute.) Ryan was embarrassed that I was so picture happy. I think he thought people were staring at me and wondering who the weird girl compulsively taking (what would probably be really bad) pictures out of her airplane window was.

The thing is, I don't care if people think I'm crazy for taking 47 pictures of the snow-covered Rocky Mountains. I think they are crazy. We are flying over an endless sea of marshmallow mountain tops, Mt. Hood, and then floating the rest of the way on a bed of clouds that are perfectly billowing as far as the eye can see... and they aren't taking pictures.

What's wrong with them?

It was just a little reminder to me how important it is to keep our awe and wonder alive. What are we if a baby doesn't make us stop and smile? A homeless person doesn't cause us to stop and feel some sort of empathy? A worship service doesn't create a pause which prompts us to fall to our knees (literally or figuratively) in worship? A butterfly doesn't capture a minute of our time? An elderly person's story doesn't make us stop and envision the past? A mountain or ocean or puffy cloud or a simple leaf falling to the ground doesn't stir a little something in our soul?

I'm not saying I gotta walk around everyday wide-eyed, mouth gaping, like Will Ferrell in the movie ELF, where he walks into the coffee shop that says, 'World's Best Coffee'.

"You did it! Congratulations! You made the best cup of coffee in the entire world!" he screams. And people look at him like he is an idiot.

OK, I'm not saying we got to take it that far. But really, what does it say about us as people if we lose our ability to be in awe and wonder? If we lose our ability to be impressed, humbled, overwhelmed, and delighted in the presence of something grand, beautiful, or simple... like the laugh of a little kid. What does it say about our culture, our entertainment, the effect technology and marketing have taken in our global economy, and our want-for-nothing mentality?

At best we are often not phased by such simple pleasures anymore; at worst we are annoyed and angered by the slow pace of life it requires to stop and experience such simple moments of joy.

And that's what I thought about as my husband pointed out that I was the only one taking an obsessive amount of pictures. I was the only taking any pictures for that matter. Even as the pilot pointed out that we were flying over the Rocky Mountains and then Mt. Hood, most people just stopped long enough to look slightly annoyed that he was interrupting the audio on their movie.

I think Ryan wanted me to stop so that I didn't look like Will Ferrell in the movie ELF.

But me?

I wanted to get on the little loud speaker and say, "Hello. Human beings. Dear Friends. Passengers. If you have eyeballs please divert them to your nearest window. It's freaking beautiful outside. You are floating on top of a mountain. There is snow everywhere. As far as your eyes can see there is breathtaking beauty. Enjoy it for a minute. Or two. Your movie will still be there when you come back. Your nap can continue. Your book will save your spot. But we will only be on top of this mountain for a few more minutes. A mountain. We are suspended 35, 000 feet in the air hovering over a mountain. Isn't it amazing?"

It's amazing. Don't miss it.