Wednesday, July 24, 2013

The Last of Them


The wonderful news (if you haven't heard already) is that I have been reassigned to the Clinic helicopter base near the house.  I will be home every night, which has been a goal of ours from the beginning.  We are committing to this city and looking to buy a house, which means I finally feel like the effort of putting down roots will not be wasted.

The sad news is that this means I only have a handful of flights left to savor this enormity of beauty.

These are some of the last ocean sunrises I will get to see from this point of view.  How could I have taken a single one of them for granted?  This base where I feel at home and familiar...I won't be coming back here after this Friday.  This season of life is coming to an end, big change is around the corner, and change is uncomfortable and makes me feel small.  Ironically, as I begin to feel smaller and less able, I am also transitioning into a larger, more capable aircraft: the Sikorsky S-76.  It looks more impressive than the ones I fly right now, mainly because it's bigger and uses retractable wheel-type landing gear, like an airplane.  It is recognized as a huge career move up, and there are lots of pilots down here waiting and yearning for their chance to move into this aircraft.  But I am dreading the 7 weeks of training into which I am about to plunge; 7 weeks of non-stop information stream + testing while living out of a suitcase, sharing a rented car with a stranger, and praying that hurricane season will pass us by quietly.  And afterwards, a job based out of a hospital (I think?) using the instrument system (which I've only known in theory thus far) and working as a co-pilot to a (hopefully non-tyrannical) pilot in command.  I already feel overwhelmed and sad.

It's an opportunity for my pride to fall, though, and that's always a good thing.  It's an opportunity for me to remember how safe, how loved, and how dependent I really am on an all-powerful, all-knowing God who is astonishingly interested in my daily sweet and sour heart.  It is know my blessings, to count them in an unending stream, and yet to feel such pervasive grief for the things that I'm losing.  I find myself convinced that this is a good move that will lead to increased life and joy for my family...and also certain that I am all but guaranteed to be miserable for the next six or seven months.

Do you ever feel this way?  Both empathizing with yourself and exasperated and impatient with your own childishness?  I hope these months will fly by quickly.  Particularly this next month.

(cue the Simon and Garfunkel)
Die she Must!


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