Despite my infrequent flying, I
knew when the pilot said to buckle up and get ready for landing, really hitting
the ground took a while. So, as
expected, our gradual descent went as usual.
But as we got close to finally setting down, suddenly the plane pulled
up and headed skyward instead. A very
nice young man was sitting next to me on the plane and in our conversation, I
had learned he often flew with his job.
I asked him if my observation of what had just happened was accurate. He replied, “Yes.” And then I said, “Has this ever happened to you
before?” This time he replied, “No.”
This
plane ride to Charlotte, North Carolina, happened over ten years ago. I was traveling alone because I was going to
help our daughter with her less than two-month-old son Henry for a week. I had not thought about this experience for a
long time until this last week. I think
the Holy Spirit brought it to my mind because of its symbolism of what I am
experiencing right now. The fast change
of direction matches a quote of St. Francis of Assisi that has been written on my heart
for even more than ten years: “First do what’s necessary, then what’s possible,
and suddenly you will be doing the impossible.”
Why
would remembering this plane ride help me discern God’s still, small voice to
guide me now? He is encouraging me to keep
believing that His promises are sure, His faithfulness to keep them remains
even when circumstances are suggesting otherwise. I have had significant pain, stiffness, and
energy issues for thirty years. In St Louis,
where my husband and I lived all our lives before moving to Charleston,
Illinois, in 2015, we spent a lot of time seeing various doctors and
specialists before I was clinically diagnosed with Hereditary Spastic Parapleses,
a rare neurological condition that currently has no medical treatment other
than trying to relieve increasing muscle spasticity, discomfort, and weakness. Just this summer, here in this little university
town on the prairie, I had genetic testing, verifying the diagnosis and
wonderfully determining that the chances of my children and grandchildren inheriting
this condition are virtually zero.
In
my 20s almost fifty years ago, my real but conventional Protestant Christian
faith became deeper, more Christ-centered and more experiential through
searching the scriptures and exploring new possibilities of faith, such as healing
after praying with faith for the sick. My
participation in various Bible studies and prayer groups nurtured my growth
over the years; I experienced wonderful answers to prayer. I also heard others’ testimonies of answered
prayer, including my own husband, who initially was not at all interested in growing beyond his Catholic background.
Ten
years ago, I had no need of walking with a cane. Now I am being encouraged to use a walker,
and I do when I “take a walk” or feel more tired in the evening, but not all
the time. The pandemic ending my exercising
at Eastern Illinois University's Recreational Center has affected my efforts to keep as strong and
upright as I can. So I have been on the
slow descent in my physical experience for some time. The genetic counseling I had this past summer
made clear some stark realities of future possibilities. But a practice I have used for some time is
asking God, “What do you have to say about this?” The book of James tells us that we can ask
God for wisdom, and He will supply it.
His
voice continues its instruction to believe, to fear not but trust that God’s
promises will come to fruition—suddenly, like in the Bible and in
St. Augustine’s words. I have yearned to
see more Biblical manifestations of the ministry of Christ continued by the
Holy Spirit for a very long time—not just for myself but for many. Jesus healed all, all who came to Him for
help. The book of Acts is a record of the
early church and its experience of the Holy Spirit’s power continuing Jesus’s
ministry as Jesus said they would if they would tarry in prayer until the Holy
Spirit was poured out upon them.
Some
years ago, a prayer attributed to Mother Theresa circulated through emails for quite
a while. A line that really grabbed my
attention was this: “May you not forget the infinite possibilities born of
faith.” Impossibilities becoming
possible by the faith that God alone can quicken to our hearts and minds. May “my plane” pull up and dramatically
change course soon, mine and many more.
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