Josiah checked the gauges and made the appropriate adjustments as his small craft bounced through a band of turbulence. In the tiny back seat, equipment buzzed, beeped and chattered as it processed the information it took in—everything from air pressure and temperature to other anomalies that the outside sensors were picking up during the flight. All of it was recorded for study later after he again touched down.
The sunlight was brilliant as he eased the plane up to a higher altitude, splitting a cloud and entering an expanse of blue marbled sky. Josiah smiled and scanned the patchwork fields below him. The browns of winter were slowly morphing into dozens of shades of green. Spring was beginning to arrive despite the fact that snow still hid in shadowed places determined to delay it from coming and he couldn’t help but marvel at the complexity of God’s creation.
Catching a thermal, Sanchez let the plane glide before soaring high again. He enjoyed the feeling in the center of his stomach as he lurched down and then back up again--the freedom of flight bringing an irrepressible smile to his face. He didn’t mind that it was for research or that Chris had sent him up before he’d even had a chance to grab himself some breakfast. He knew, as Larabee did, that despite the deceptive sunlit morning, serious storms lurked in the fluffy white clouds and grabbing the readings now was the best time. Another quick check of the gauges and equipment and Josiah frowned. The front was moving in quickly and he’d be forced to land soon.
It wasn’t often that he got a chance to take the experimental plane into the sky--only when the team of chasers were at base and the weather cooperated. He could see the physical neglect the craft suffered because of the lack of attention, but it was a solid, reliable plane in flight and Josiah was proud of the work he’d put into it. Now, the plane he’d built with his own hands took him high into the heavens and, as he soared along, he found himself wishing for a moment that he didn’t have need of his mechanical partner. To be able to coast along the thermals unhindered by metal and mass, to feel the wind against his body, to really fly.
He knew it was an impossible dream, the closest he’d reached was skydiving years before, but the sensation of falling just wasn’t the same, and since he’d felt completely uncoordinated when he’d tried hang gliding…he’d settled on his airplane.
The equipment behind him buzzed again, reminding him that he was actually on a mission and the time was shorter than he’d like. The sky was growing darker now and, though he would have preferred to just ride the wind higher and higher, his common sense got the better of him and he made the necessary adjustments to turn back to the small private airstrip again.
One day, he trusted, his dream would come true and he would soar to the highest, unhampered by the restrictions of his humanity. He’d float and fly and smile and keep going until he reached eternity…until he no longer had to settle for the beautiful imprint of God on his world, but could touch the unimaginably perfect face of God himself.
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High Flight
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds,—and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air ....
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew—
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
- John Gillespie Magee, Jr.
Royal Canadian Air Force
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The End
