We flew back from our vacation in Maui two weeks ago, and we took the red-eye. I cannot sleep on an airplane. Just can't do it. So I read, or listen to music, or just close my eyes and drift. I had my little girl asleep on my lap, so I watched her sleep. And I waited for the sun to rise. The sky turned from a pitch black to a navy blue. That was the first hint of the sun's impending appearance. I was sitting on the aisle seat, two seats away from the window. I watched the sun rise. It was gorgeous.
I had to lean across the kids to take pictures, but I wanted to capture the view as I saw it. At first, it was just the wing of the plane, and the clouds. Then Catalina Island appeared, and the west coast of California. The Los Angeles harbour. Cities, towns and neighbourhoods beneath us. It's quite surreal. Seeing the city but not being a part of it. Seeing the endless streets and neighbourhoods sprawling into the distance. So many people. Every life important, every story unique, every soul valuable. And I'm one of them. One of millions, but important to my Maker. One of millions, but with a purpose. With my own story, my own reason for being here. Even among the sprawl of the city that seems to stretch on forever, He knows me. He knows where I am, and what I'm doing and He cares. And I'm reminded how big my God is.
