The view from my window proves I'm no longer in Texas.
no mockingbird singing...
no 90 degree days...
no deer in the backyard...
no backyard even.
But a moose recently grazed her way through the woods just outside
and I am wearing a sweatshirt and warm pants.
My Alaskan summer has begun once again.
And I am ever so thankful.
As the plane left Seattle at 9:30 pm, it was dark and stars shone.
These would be the last stars I see until September.
Barely an hour into the northwestern flight
I noticed a faint line of yellow marking the horizon ahead.
From 33,000 feet above, the curvature of the earth is so evident.
And lovely with the glow of light marking it.
Such a strange phenomenon:
the later the hour became, closer and closer to midnight,
the brighter this horizon grew--
the band of light growing wider and higher and redder.
Defying what my mind expected for the time of night.
Massive, snow covered mountains glow in setting sunlight
and tall, dark Black Spruce darken the land beneath the plane.
Our descent into Fairbanks connected with my soul
and I recognized the wide, silty banks of the tangled Tanana River
meandering wherever its glacial waters choose.
My heartbeat quickened as I acknowledged the wildness of this land.
People may have settled here but nature dictates their course.
The land of Interior Alaska will not be tamed.
And this harsh and beautiful wonder thrills me.
The expanse of forest, height of the trees, twisting of rivers,
and massive mountains all shout of excessive sizes.
Just because they can!
No borders limit them--one cannot stop a glacier grinding forward.
Nor a raging forest fire devouring hundreds of thousands of acres.
And my soul expands with this environment.
I am reminded how big my God is when I am here!
His mighty hand created all my eyes see!
I sigh and am filled with peace as the wheels touch down.
I pray I am ready to begin yet another brief span of time here
in this great place with people I love.