The building looks like a huge silo with the top cut off. It is, in effect, a vertical wind tunnel. Rides last only a minute--it is an exhausting experience.
Brent got me 4 minutes on Friday. After I flew (I really did fly!), they offered another minute . . . and so I got 5 chances to float on air.
After I finished, Brent asked me what I wanted to do on Saturday. He had plans to fly in a helicopter or to go up in a bi-plane . . . or I could come back and fly again.
There was no hesitation. On Saturday we returned and I flew for 6 minutes more.
By the time I finished, I could fly stable, go up and down, spin to the right and left. I am excited to return and fly again.
When Megan was a young she wanted two things: to grow up and be a bunny--and to fly.
I have had a chance to do something that has filled my dreams since I can remember dreaming.
What was it like?
I had to concentrate on holding my arms and legs in position--while relaxing all of my muscles. It was an exercise in contradictions. Tiny movements of my hands and forearms turned me around in circles; tightening my stomach muscles increased the area of my body so that I floated up higher; and allowing my spine to relax let me drop lower, hovering over the mesh bottom of the enclosure.
Time didn't exist. I leaned into the flow of wind and moments later I was pushed through the doorway--heavied by gravity again.
The memory is in the same corner of my mind as as the jumps I've gone over with my horse. It is next to the moment I saw Brent for the first time.
There are a few other points in time that hover over me continually:
Nathan was 7, we were sitting in Stake Conference in Houston and I wrote him a note:
"Do you have a testimony that Joseph Smith is a prophet and restored Christ's Church?"
He though about it for a minute and then wrote back.
"Not yet."
I wrote back:
"Is that OK?"
He didn't even think about it:
"I don't have my own testimony yet. I know I can borrow you and dad's until I get one of my
own."
When Lauren was a toddler and would wake up, she waited quietly until Brent and I came to get her up. I would open the door and she would see me, standing up at the side of her crib, with her arms held up toward me. As I lifted her up and held her close to me, she would melt onto me; her arm draped over my shoulder and her head tucked firmly below my ear. I feel that warmth against my body even as I write about it.
And Megan. When she was only about two months old, I remember sitting with her on my lap. Brent and I were both in school full time and working part-time. We traded Meg between us--Brent took her to class while I was at work. I did homework with her on my lap. There were few moments that were quiet and private. Meg wiggled and I held her up so that she was facing me. All of a sudden Megan's face lit up like the sun and she reached for me. She smiled and I heard in my spirit that she loved me.
While flying wasn't the emotional benchmarks I've described above, what was made my heart fill with joy was the fact that Brent was as thrilled for me to fly as I was. His present for our anniversary was watching my thrill at being airborne. He found joy in my own.
I imagine that the Lord was trying to tell us when he had his prophet write:
For behold, this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.
Moses 1:39
As I learn more of Brent, I begin to understand more of what Heavenly Father and Christ are like.
