Fear of Landing

It’s 7 PM Monday night, and on this trip I learned that I am afraid of landing. My first flight as a real adult was when I was 19 flying to see my aunt in Vermont. My heart raced, and I gripped the seat handles as we took off. That would be my thing until I turned 50. Then Vegas. It was the landing. There have been a few flights since then, but this one illuminated my issue. However, I’m in the air now, and I got a chance to look down and see a plane landing. Why does it look so smooth from here? Ahhh, perspective. Reminds me of something that workout partner of mine says. Whenever I’m ranting and raving or feeling vexed, she holds her arm up and says, come up higher. Change your perspective. Pray to see things from God’s view. So let me keep it even more 100. I am close to my two year anniversary of my big dream, the idea I was blessed with for a nonprofit. I was telling my cousins that my instructions consist of six words, but not a lot of details from above. Did I mention the fear in my gut? Sigh… That’s actually an exaggeration. My gut feels very sure that I’m moving in the right direction. It’s my head. The doubts, the what ifs, the extreme insecurities. Flashback to just a few weeks ago when I was in Pennsylvania. I woke up early with excitement, ideas, and enthusiasm. Nothing drastic happened to put me back in doubt mode. My cousin blessed me by saying my doubts will drive me to pray more. Absolutely! Whenever I announce the launch, just picture me gripping seat handles, breathing deeply, and stepping out on nothing but faith. But maybe that’s what is required of all of us. Faith… And not much else.