On my flight to Denver, I finished reading Gift of the Sea, and I got a little carried away with taking photos. The scenery below wouldn't stop being interesting, as much fun as sitting on the beach watching the ever-changing, fast moving views of the waves and clouds and birds and beach-goers.
We came up through a cloud bank into that bright "Aha!" moment of breaking light, when the sun streams through the plane windows, the clouds below like a foamy sea.
Like a multi-colored map of a continent hanging on a schoolroom wall, a condensed, colorful version of humanity and history, the view below offers glimpses into what is going on: a green field here, a yellow patch there, a cluster of what could be the buildings of a little community nearby. Patches sewed onto the earth, an attempt to hold things together, cover up the torn sports?
This reminded me of my dad, who used to work in the plastic industry. He traveled a lot, and used to enjoy telling the passenger next to him that he made the glue and the plastic that held the plane together.
Next time you fly - trust the duct tape and the glue - and, thankfully, the Lord!
*In fairness, when I told our son-in-law this story, he said there is an airline grade of duct tape used in the military and the aerospace industry. It's not your home maintenance duct tape. Still a funny idea, though, to see the mechanic using the guy-fix-anything-with-duct-tape method.