The other thing we have in Atlanta is lots of traffic. That is no different now, despite the break in the weather. Yesterday, driving home from church, I got caught in a slowdown caused by a paving project on the interstate. Instead of fuming, I decided to look at the sky through my sunroof. It was beautiful.
The first thing I saw were planes taking off and landing at the airport up ahead. I liked the angle they presented as they sped toward the clouds. I sort of wished I was on one of them, going somewhere.
The next thing I saw was a red-tailed hawk circling overhead. How did I know it was a red-tail? The sun caught the orangey, fanned-out tail feathers. I expect it was hunting, as it seemed to be honed in on a particular area.
And then I just looked at the fluffy clouds. I thought about how when I was little, we kids thought that angels sat on those clouds or that God used a cloud like a chariot or magic carpet. And then when we were bigger and knew that clouds were vapor, we were disappointed. Angels or God would surely fall through vapor, but no alternate setting came to mind.
I don't think we look up enough. At least, I don't think I look up enough. I have my eyes on the road, on the sidewalk, on down-to-earth things. And I often feel weighted down. It felt good to watch things drifting or soaring through the sky. Things that are heavy, like planes, can still go through the air with the greatest of ease.
I need to look up more often.