(Okay, okay - it was just a momentary thought. It'd be a Mid-Life moment if I live to be '122'.)
I tried to imagine the best part of skydiving.
The freedom of leaving the plane.
The thrill of jumping into the unknown.
The incredible view.
Yep. All preeeety sweet.
But that wasn't it. Nope.
For me, it would be that jerk and pull when the 'chute kicks in.
Dropping me safely to earth to do it all again.
Really. When you think about it -
the only difference between suicide and skydiving is - the 'chute.
I think it was Paul who said if we don't have a 'chute then we are the stupidest of people.
(Revised Not Standard Version)
So today I will enjoy my freefall through another day on the planet.
Watching life shoot by me, things happening, and paying close attention to that little tug, that small jerk back, that keeps me safe and obedient.
Secure in His safety.
In His care.
So I daily step to the door and bail out into the world - and enjoy the thrill.
"Geronimo", eh?