You know those, right?
The clock stops moving.
The brain stops moving.
Life is all reactive.
No proactive.
A zombie with a keyboard.
Yeah. It sucks.
I look up and waaaaay over the top of the trees, painting a thin line of white on a blue sky, is a jet. The angle and direction has me thinking it's going to Minneapolis.
Maybe Duluth.
Huh.
I remember what it's like, looking down at the lakes, the rivers. Miles of trees that give way to miles of farms and houses. Looking at clouds that won't come into the view of ground-dwellers for another hour or so.
A seat with a view. A little window with a big picture.
Leaning back to stretch, I think of how He gives us the best of both worlds. At the same time.
We get to move along in our day-to-day lives, touching other lives, smelling the roses and the skunk cabbage. Stepping on lush green grass and smelly, smearing mud.
While flying a little lower than the angels, seeing the simultaneous view from clouds.
The over-view, the big picture.
How it will all come together.
And why.
The trick of using a microscope and a telescope, both at the same time.
It can only be done through His eyes, I think.
It's not so much a matter our altitude as attitude.
Kinda like bifocals for Life.
Bringing things into clarity.
And perspective.