More From Mike C. Bertoglio

My mom was terrified of flying and had a prescription medication she would take before trips. Perhaps I inherited some trepidation from her. Most of my trips have been pretty calm, but we did have one terrifying episode when our plane heading back from Hawaii made a full stop on the runway going about 150 mph. There was a mechanical problem of an “undisclosed nature” that canceled the flight.

Since moving to Georgia in 2017, we have done a lot of flying, though not during the pandemic years. We still have our place in Seattle and family there, but since our two boys “abandoned us” and moved East and we have four grands now, we thought we had to make a move. I have gotten a little better at flying but still find myself anxious at times, especially during landings. My meditation was about one of the long flights from Atlanta to Seattle—almost six hours. It seems longer each time. The airline we fly on often passed out a card with Isaiah 40:31 printed on it, and I would meditate on the verse on the flight.

I have spoken of my boys before—Kris, a teacher in NYC working on his PhD in education, and Michael, a lieutenant fireman in Georgia. I am proud of both and have been richly blessed.

The picture of Verie and me was taken while we visited my cousin in Destin, Florida. It is dated February 10, 2020. At that time, there were just budding rumblings of the impending pandemic; no one had masks on. I remember seeing a news screen of virus “hot spots” in the United States, but no mention of a pandemic yet. My cousin had seen information online that things were “going to get worse—much worse.”

A lot has changed since then. And although we can say for the most part those days are behind us, I worry at times that we are becoming too complacent. Of course—I am a worrier.