Our flight finally neared the runway as 80 mph side-winds battered the plane. Just before decent, the drink cart came off the floor and nearly hit the ceiling. Suddenly the wings break upward, blocking my view of the horizon, then quickly downward to view the ocean. The plane was nervously quiet on the inside as it was battered outside—a white knuckle approach to San Francisco; landing speed 158 MPH.
Some I could see praying, silently mouthing, whispering to their god—certain some deals were being made that day. I was sitting window seat over the left wing as we lowered within crashing range, watching the wing flexing up and down just missing the runway. Suddenly in a flash I pictured the plane cartwheeling down the runway in a fiery crash, but at that moment the pilot performed his magic and touched the plane down like a foot stomp.
Sighs of relief exhaled from front to back, then a post adrenal crash into applause and chatter—and in an instant we all realize we made it—Alive! Now back to business and the boredom as usual…
Is this how we feel when we die, returning to the mundane existence of eternal life? What a rush it must be to break back through to the other side. For at that moment the game would get us every time.
We know what it’s like to die—the same as it is to survive. All the anxieties of not knowing released in an instant. Yet here, we shackle ourselves to another day, living to escape death—while in our normal existence we would line up for the chance to risk it.
Just a flash of time outside our normal state of being—is life