One bumpy ride that was. I truly enjoy flying but today's turbulence was a little over the top. I used to be really afraid of flying. Not sure how that evolved but suddenly one day I was too frightened to even book another flight. For several years, I couldn't/wouldn't even consider flying. It was heartbreaking to be unable to fly to see Matt when he was stationed in Okinawa or anyone anywhere else where momentous family/friend events were taking place. My adventuresome partner had no desire to travel abroad and believed if a place couldn't be gotten to via Harley Davidson, it didn't need to be gotten to. It seemed to be a big deal only to me. I could heal others of their traumas and fears but this one with my name on it seemed immovable. FDR’s line, the "only thing to fear is fear itself" haunted me. I hated that fear and as spiritual truth will have it, that which is resisted usually gets stronger. Our wedding song had been The Rose... you know, "the soul afraid of dying never learns to live" song. One afternoon seven years ago, sitting in the pool and gazing up at planes flying over, I decided that even if I was destined to die in some horrific plane crash, I wanted to Live fully until such time. I really did want to see as much of this planet as I could; to see as much of God’s creation as opportunities over my lifetime would allow.

I had seen Capt. Tom Bunn interviewed on GMA, late night TV shows, and heard him on NPR. I got in touch with him and entered his SOAR program to find an array of international classmates. Folks, worldwide, who had either never flown, become suddenly afraid to fly after years of problem-free air travel or who had been in a crash or near-miss. Corporate types, folks who had worked aggressively in their careers only to turn down top promotions because it would have meant air travel, and retired flight attendants joined in one common goal: to learn to fly comfortably. (I never knew the exact cause of my fear but suspect it was related to the Everglades crash, media coverage/photos of teddy bears floating among alligators not withstanding)

Months later, program completed, fear subsided and shaky new confidence growing, I chose my first flight – Charlotte, N.C. to Houston. On the appointed day, we headed to the airport for my first flight in years. Adventuresome partner, whose love, support and unlimited patience were as predictable as the sunrise, continued his mantra of, “well, if this is important to you but I still say I’d rather be takin’ this trip on the Harley.” Now, this really couldn’t be so as this was a business flight for him and we really couldn’t have taken the bike in the time frame allotted. It was rather his way of keeping things low key and a back door open for me, allowing me to “save face” if I just couldn’t do it. Friends around the country had sent emails for weeks, relaying stories of their flying experiences, good and bad. Local girlfriends had rallied support. One girlfriend, Melissa, a United Airlines flight attendant based in Charlotte, was amazing. Melissa was actually waiting for us at the gate of our 5 AM flight, on her day off! She dragged the arriving (and still sleepy looking) captain over to talk to me in the boarding area, marched me on board ahead of everyone else, tucked a blanket around me to nestle me into my seat, covered me with hugs and reassurances, and tossed stern warnings to her colleagues who were flying with me that morning to see after me. A tad embarrassing but still….. That first flight was smooth and uneventful. My love of and comfort again with flying grew with each flight I took and my life once again seemed filled with possibilities.

I was thinking of my journey through the fear as our plane landed in San Francisco this evening. Turbulence had never been a problem for me but many more wild rockin’ flights like this one and it could become one! The poor pilot kept apologizing over the intercom. Seriously, all went well and we got settled into our hotel with plenty of time to make the opening social event and meet up with friends over at Scoma’s on Fisherman’s Wharf. Seriously now, those Dungeness Crab Cakes were so worth it all.