As I sat in the large waiting area at D.I.A., other times and other places filled my thoughts. The plane from Chicago was bringing my oldest daughter home from visiting her younger sister in Rockford, Illinois. D.I.A. is a busy place, parking is scarce and people are plentiful. I enjoy airports; they hold so much excitement. Happy people are going on vacations to far away places. I like to watch the planes as they take off, like giant birds spreading their wings to soar through the Heavens.

When we lived in the country in the summertime a small airplane used to dust the crops close to our home. Very early in the morning as the sun first spread its colors across the eastern sky I could hear the buzz of that little plane. Grabbing my robe I hurried out to watch with fascination as that unknown pilot sprayed the fields with life giving medicine. The aircraft glided down and came so close to the field that I was sure the nose would be buried in the ground. Just in time it leveled off and flew close to the soil. A sweep of the field and then the plane flew up to the Heavens. After making a circle in the sky it once again came to earth to repeat the process. I was treated to a private never-to be forgotten air show. That pilot was an artist. I loved watching but had no desire to join him.

I can barely remember my first flight. I was just a little girl and it was a small plane and a short ride. I could see my parents far below as they turned into tiny people. The house and trees looked like children's toys. I was hooked on flying. Although since that long ago day I have taken many flights in big airplanes I wasn't in a small one again until after my daughters were grown.

Earl and I flew to Anchorage, Alaska to visit my sister-in-law and her husband, Bernice and Earl Lamson. We were surrounded by white cotton candy clouds. It was an interesting stay. We rode on a ferryboat to Valdez, saw a huge iceberg and drove the car back to Anchorage. Earl and I journeyed in a comfortable train to Mount McKinley National Park where we stayed in a trailer and saw the countryside on an eight-hour bus tour.

Bernice and Earl were real pioneers. They had a fish camp and in order to reach it we had to travel by boat. The fish camp was rugged; it consisted of a rustic cabin and a shed in back where they cured salmon. The best part of that two-day stay was the jars of smoked fish we brought home.

Earl Lamon and his son, Orville had bought a little plane and were pilots. When Orville offered to give us a scenic ride I was delighted. It would be the first time I had been in a small plane since I was a child. As we took off from the airport I sat in the back, eager with anticipation.

It was July but below us was a giant patchwork quilt of white and bits of brown covering the peaks. Wild goats feeding high on the mountaintops were miniatures. The many Alaskan lakes looked like saucers of water on a hilly dinner table.

Suddenly the engine was quiet. The stillness was deafening. "What's wrong?" I demanded.

"I turned the engine off," Orville said.

"You what?" I shrieked. The two men laughed as my voice got louder. My mouth was dry, I held my breath.

"I'm coasting," Orville answered. Now when I was a little girl my Dad used to save gas by turning off the engine and coasting down the hills, but this was different. We were suspended in the air, above tiny white mountain sheep that grazed on bits of wild grass. I gripped the side of the plane, what if the engine wouldn't start again? It was like being stalled on the top of a Ferris wheel; suddenly the earth was a long way down. I was sure we were going to dip to the land below any minute. I didn't WANT to be a part of a stunt airplane.

I said a brief and speedy prayer as I looked at the white animals below us. "Lord, please don't let us fall."

Finally Orville started the engine and I sighed a "Thank you." We were probably only stopped for a couple of minutes but those were the longest minutes I ever experienced.

It was a good flight but I was glad when we landed and grateful that we didn't plunge to the earth like a wounded bird. It was another never-to-be forgotten airplane ride.

There have been many moments in my lifetime when I felt like I was suspended in air and ready to plunge to the earth. At those times my prayer is short and fast. "Help Lord, please don't let me fall." He has always been faithful. I've never fallen yet.