I awoke startled from a dream. A house was flying through the air, beginning to come apart amid an iron, ironing board, car, flip-flops and furniture heading in every direction.
What is needed for this time when everything seems to be flying off its hinges or soaring up from tried and true foundations? Lord only knows where it will all land.
The invitation I hear in the middle of this chaos is to let it all go. Don’t look for landing spots. And, hardest of all, don’t be afraid.
I am flying through the air myself. Am I the iron—desperately wanting to remove some wrinkles? Am I driving the car that has left the road behind?
Every time I wake up during a sleepless night, I am off and flying in my thoughts and fears. No landing in sight.
When life throws me a tornado, I need to learn to fly—or swirl or release.
The rest is up in the air.