I’m terrified of flying. Very likely, this is the reason I haven’t stepped foot on a plane in the last decade. I used to be pretty good at flying, on planes or otherwise. I’d close my eyes and dive forward, into open air. Those were the days when I was pretty good at swimming, too. I never cared about freefalling back then. Or maybe I cared so much I couldn’t contemplate the fall.

I’m about to step into open air. The cliff I’ve been standing on is starting to give way, and anyway, my feet are itching for a change. They’ve been cooped up, stranded, left-behind for some time now. And I have this little boy constantly dancing around me, daring me to join the hurricane swell that is his life. What can I do? What choice do I have but to leap?

Of course, I have many choices. I don’t have to leap. I could stand still. I could fall. I could fly. Perhaps it’s not so much a matter of choice as it is a matter of faith. Neo doesn’t become the chosen one until he believes he’s worthy of being chosen. Am I worthy? Like Mulder, I Want to Believe. Oh, but what tricky, fragile feathers faith and belief can be! I can’t just “buy some” as Jack would have me think. I can’t order them up at a diner counter or glue them to my arms like a child’s art project. Faith comes in steps, not in leaps…and then, suddenly, you’re leaping. You’re flying without even realizing that you’ve left the ground. This is what’s so amazing about faith: it’s only a burden to carry when you’re not actually carrying it.

Last week, while Jack and I stared up at yet another plane that had captured his fancy, I found myself saying, “Isn’t it amazing that they don’t fall down?” Jack ignored me, and I’m glad he did. I hope his faith is so much stronger than mine that he can ignore my moment of faltering. I’d feel terrible if he tucked that nugget away and pulled it out later as full-blown doubt. After all, he is worthy. I suppose if he does remember my doubt, I’ll have the advantage of life on my side. By then, I’ll have taken a few more steps and seen a few more planes. By then, I hope to have learned that planes don’t fly by magic but by a series of physical laws. We fly in stages, I’ll tell him, not just by sheer will. I know these truths as fact. One day, I hope to believe.