Holding Patterns

Growing up, I spent a lot of time around airplanes (Maybe this is why I feel so “flighty” most of the time? Ha). After meeting my mom in the Air Force, my dad transitioned into a position as an air traffic controller during the great FAA unrest of the Reagan era (when I was about four years old… the same age as my daughter now).

I have fond memories of visiting dad at the tower to watch him talk to planes and “play” with the radar screens. I loved the sound of the phonetic alphabet in everyday use – “Echo Charlie Niner Foxtrot, you are cleared to land…” – and even though my dad is retired now, I will still throw a “niner” into conversation every once in a while, just for old times sake.

We went to more than our fair share of air shows as well. There are many photos of me as a child, doing my best “ballerina” poses in front of B2 Bombers. (The strangeness of this combination was lost on me – the “flightyness” started early, ha.)

Life near the airport, with the buzz of planes in the background, became familiar. It still makes me feel at home when I hear it.

Not long after that, when my parents split up, I flew from that same air field to live in a new state with my mom and little brother. And even with so much “up in the air” around me, the thought that the whole world was really only a plane ride away, was comforting.

But, by this standard, living in another state became like a year-long “holding pattern” of sorts, until I could fly back in the summers to visit my dad.

After I moved away from home, I looked forward to the end of “holding patterns” – freedom to move when and where I chose seemed the ultimate gift (dare I say privilege, ahem) of adulthood. But “adulting” is tricksy, as most are aware. And those holding patterns turned from one thing into another… waiting to graduate… waiting to find a job… waiting to find a career… waiting to find a relationship… waiting to find love… waiting to find real love… waiting to have kids… waiting to have another kid… waiting to find a house… waiting to move houses…

Did I mention we just sold our house?

So here I sit… ruminating on the home we have created the past five years. Attempting to mark the milestone of a place that has held so much, but feeling the sentimental weight of a millstone of “Is this the right decision?” Battling the physical and emotional – literal holding patterns of all of the STUFF that a home means and contains… The hours and hours spent holding and nursing my children within these walls…

As I drive down streets filled with “For Sale” signs, I know that I am not alone. And it helps to remember that, for those who have found their “skyward connection” – circling around an earthly realm for a few years doesn’t seem overly significant in terms of where one lands for now. Not to mention all the worry about “aliens” and “space forces” out there – thankfully there is ultimately something greater when it comes to “air traffic” control.

I plan to continue to do my part to navigate as best I can… for myself, my family, and my current/new community… but I also know it is best to leave the whole “home front” situation up to someone who has a much better view from above.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders… And let us run (or fly, as it were) with patience the race marked out for us.” -Hebrews 12:1