For the first time in my life I flew across the country while not occupying a window seat. More aware of the people around me, I was surprised to discover that the cabin around me was dark and entombed. Virtually all the window shades, on both sides of the plane, were down. In the course of 4 hours, they never went up.
I was flabbergasted.
Flying over the Rocky Mountains about killed me. Except for a brief “up and down” of the shade by my seat mate, I had no opportunity to catch a glimpse of God’s grandeur outside my window.
I was “trapped.”
My captors? 150 people content to live in darkness.
But then I asked myself this question.
How often is my captor me – when I refuse to open my front door and step outside?
When was the last time you stopped to watch a sunset in silence and awe? Caught a lightening bug? Smelled a flower? Watched a falling leaf? Wiggled your toes in the grass or sand?