Sunday, May 30, 2010

Knowing My Place

This could be a post about patience, faith, or perspective. But that wasn't the lesson I was learning, so apply your own object lesson if you want one of those..

San Francisco happens to be very near a large body of water.

And as you fly into the airport, if you're on the wrong side of plane (and I am) all you see is water.

And as you descend from 35,000 feet, when you're just a few hundred feet in the air, you feel a little like you could just reach out the window and pick a flower. Except that flowers don't grow in large bodies of water.

And if you're a know-it-all (like me) as you watch the plane come dangerously close to the water, you feel the need to let somebody know. Because CLEARLY they are not seeing what I'm seeing. (Insert "perspective" lesson here.)

And when you realize that the man flying the plane went through training and really does know better than you do, (insert "faith" lesson here) you start to feel a little silly for thinking that he needed you to help him do his job.

And then (because of the faith and perspective) as you stare out the window knowing that you'll see land soon, you just plain wait. (Insert patience lesson here.)

But in the end, really, you just remembered that you don't really know it all, and that as a passenger is it not your place to fly the plane.

Even if you know enough about this plane to know it doesn't land on water.
Even if you know you're surrounded by water (because you can SEE IT RIGHT THERE).
Even if the plane is clearly landing, when you are surrounded by water, and it does not land on water.
Even if you know you will die because this idiot pilot thinks he's the bear from Tailspin

It still isn't my place to tell the man how to fly. So I just sat there and bit my tongue. Not because of patience, faith or perspective, but because I know my place. And (fortunately) it is not in the cockpit.

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