view from the top

I had a lovely coffee date with my friend Allie this morning. We sat outside in whicker chairs at the Gainey Ranch Coffee Bean laughing, listening and thinking more than we would normally think at 10 am on a Saturday. By the end, we took turns airing out our pits and exchanging sweaty hugs.


September in Phoenix is such a confusing month. As the rest of the world dives into the fall season once again befriending scarves, sweaters, and pumpkin-spice lattes, we Arizona residents are still experiencing weather that would compete with your summer's hottest day. Strange.


Allie is an amazing, outdoorzy woman. Her dad just got her a knife for her hikes. A knife...for her hikes. I am ashamed to say I would not have any use for a knife on any hike I've ever been on- outside of using it to spread some peanut butter onto bread. In the span of one day, Allie will find the need to use a knife on a hike, do yoga at the top of a mountain, book a red-eye flight to Hilton Head for a wedding, pull off a gaudy pearl necklace that would scare most women to even try on, and two step her way to a Zac Brown Band Concert in the lawn seats.


She is one of those people that novels are based off of. In fact- she would've made Eat, Pray, Love a little more entertaining once it reached the big screen.

Nevertheless, one of my favorite things about Allie is the number of conversations we're able to have about God. Today we paused for a minute to think about God's view. Anytime we find ourselves atop a mountain, in the window seat of an airplane, or on the top floor of a skyscraper we're fascinated with the amount of life moving and swirling around us. Everyone with a 'day.' An agenda. A destination. A goal. A schedule. A life. The view from the top can't help but make us feel so small. So insignificant. So singular.




When I'm able to momentarily alter my perspective, I find that my own little world may not be as gravely important as I often convince myself it is. In my own head, with my own problems, on my own time I purposely close the door to the fact that with every passing face is an equally crucial little world.

Sometimes when I see a plane in the sky I think about the people in that plane. Freaky to think of all those lives thousands of miles above solid ground. But within that plane is someone flying in for a big game, someone eager to see family they haven't seen in years, someone that booked a last minute flight for a sudden funeral, someone in dire need of a vacation, and someone that has flown so many times- it's more familiar than their bed. All in one airplane. 

When I start to feel overwhelmed with the countless stories and lives I think about our creator. The One who spoke this world into motion. And how this planet is His own little world. What promise and hope for the rest of us to know all our little worlds fit perfectly in His hands.