A “fly over state.” It is easy to imagine what that means. In a country that has grown to the point where more American citizens live in urban areas than rural areas, Kansas is often thought to be no more than a state you look down upon from on high as a jet races from coast to coast, big city to big city.
When my daughter Kelly was very young, she would ask “where are we?” Telling her we were at some point between Topeka and another destination, she would always reply, “So, we are in the middle of nowhere.” Over the years, Kelly has come to understand that being in the “middle of nowhere” is so much better than most people ever will know. Yesterday was the perfect example.
Jets raced across our “fly over state” on a cloudless day leaving contrails in their wake. With the high altitude atmosphere stilled on a glorious fall day, the white streaks left behind tangled with each other over the great expanse of blue sky. From horizon to horizon, the vapor trails ever so slowly dissipated. It was easy to imagine while standing in eastern Kansas that Laura and I were enjoying the same contrails folks in the far west of the state were viewing with the same pleasure. Even late into the evening staring at the now moon-lit sky, those contrails still hung high to the delight of the eye.
If Kansas is a “fly over state,” then let us all pray that never changes. Just keep flying over us leaving your contrails in the sky. We will keep living down below marveling over all of God’s glory as others just fly by.