We’re in Seattle for two weeks, and the first time we go to the water front, we see it. Perched on the end of Pier 57, rising as high as a sixteen story building, the Seattle Great Wheel looms over Fisherman’s Restaurant, commanding views of the Puget Sound, Bainbridge Island, the Olympic Peninsula, Mt. Rainier, Safeco Field, the Space Needle, and much more. The mere sight of it is enough to get the heart pumping. And then Grace tells us.
Opening day is Saturday, June 30. Her 29th birthday. And our second to last day in town.
Two such momentous occasions on the same day can mean only one thing. We have to ride it.
The big day arrives and Jubilee has a gig in Redmond that night, leaving us a small window of opportunity in the afternoon to celebrate Grace with a whirl in the sky. We reach the site giddy with anticipation, only to be met by men in hard hats who inform us they’re still working on a few issues and the public opening has been delayed until 5:00 PM. Too late for us.
That’s a wee bit of a bummer, but as I always say, “If you can’t ride a ferris wheel on your birthday and/or opening day, ride it the next day instead.” (Okay, maybe I don’t always say that, but I’m saying it now.)
Sunday is our last chance, and again our window of opportunity is small. We decide to try to squeeze in a ride between church and lunch, before the Sparrow’s nap time turns any activity into fertile ground for toddler melt down. After standing in line for tickets and then standing in line some more for our turn to ride, nap time overtakes us, and said melt down commences. But once we finally climb aboard, all thoughts of nestling into bed flit out the plexiglass window.
The Sparrow loves to fly.
As soon as we start our ascent, she presses against the window and remains there, nothing but a thin layer of glass separating her from almost certain death. I want to pull her back, to keep her from leaning her full weight on the door. And I really, really want to know what “issues” those hard-hat men had been resolving the day before.
But she is fearless.
And why shouldn’t she be? Her parents brought her here, and they’re close by, smiling their encouragement. She senses their excitement in this adventure and enters it with her whole, tiny being.
She is a Sparrow seen, loved, protected. She has every reason to spread her wings and soar.
I watch her, and I wonder. Don’t I have a loving Father, and didn’t He bring me here (wherever “here” may be)? And isn’t my life a part of His plan, even when it feels like it’s spinning in meaningless circles, and my head is dizzy, and I’m pretty sure I’m inches from disaster?
Am I not also a sparrow seen? Loved? Protected?
I am. And I was made to enter life’s adventure with my whole being — to lean my full weight on His promises and let them lift me above the waves. To laugh, giddy with anticipation, knowing that He works all things together for good, and not one word He has spoken concerning me will fail, but all will be brought to pass.
Mine is not to worry or fret or demand answers to every question before I’ll trust Him. Mine is simply to step up close to the glass and spread my wings.
He lifts. He carries. And He will not let me go.
Mine is to soar.
* * *
Giving thanks in community for (#516 – 534)
two weeks in Seattle
the Sparrow singing Veggie Tales
her smile, her laugh, her sweet nature
boating to Clark Island
needing a sweatshirt in June
Orapin Thai with Steven and his parents
Lois here for two months
the Sparrow’s baby sister, Malia Eden
Sarah and Luke’s happy news (our 4th grandbaby on the way!)
powerful, convicting sermons
the joy of living near beloveds