The Flight to Greece

It seems like years and years ago that I flew on a plane from Seattle to Athens. The idea of the United States seems strange to me; the smells, sounds, foods and desires are different. The truth is though that I have only been gone for three months from my home. I only remember bits and pieces of the flight, but there certainly was some beauty to it.

I sat watching the small screen in front of me, it showed a little red blip flying over countries and continents, and it was fascinating to see where the plane was at all times. I remember flying over Ireland and England, Italy and France. The sunrise over Marseille was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in my life.

Sitting just beside me was a kind of fruit-nut woman. The classic Pacific Northwest socks with sandals-hiker-writer-wannabe poet-spiritualist woman. We started talking, because although I would be perfectly content just to stare out the window for hours on end, she was less enthused by the adventure at hand. We talked about life and pasts and futures and things, and lo and behold, the whole "I'm going to a Greek Bible college" schtick really caught her attention and we talked about God.

I never learned her real name, but now I call her Le-anne. We talked and talked, and she thought that Jesus was a great guy, but that everybody found their own way to God. We talked more and more, and by the end she said that she thought Jesus was 'full of crock' when we talked about what He actually said. I suppose that's at least some improvement.

I'm still praying for Le-Anne, and I desperately hope that one day I see her in heaven. What a glorious day that would be.