The Grand Terrace View

This is me. In the morning. Before coffee. 

Twenty-five-year-old wire rim glasses help focus my eyes and a sleep mask doubles as a head band until I remember to take it off.

Last week I took my morning routine to the terrace outside our beach condo on the 21st floor. A light rain fell and the ocean raged as Tropical Storm Cindy moved through. But I didn't care.

The view enamored me. 

Perched high above the mere mortals who dared to traverse the white sands, I observed their moves with a pious air.  Able to see much farther than their grounded perspectives allowed, I surveyed my kingdom with calm.

Toy cars moved along the major thoroughfare like ants. Storm clouds rolled in from the ocean as rain showers burst over parts of the land. Their beginning and end spread across my purview. 

So as Queen of Perdido Key, I looked down on the tiny people and their cars with a sense of grandeur. 

Perched on my throne again as the sun set one night, I glanced at FB on my phone, only to see a video by a writer named, Torry. His status update concerned me, "Worst day EVER. Pray harder please."

Drawn in, I tried to play his video, but only heard the beginning: "Since this has been the worst day ever, I'm recording this as a last will and testament sort of thing..."

As one of the first to see the post, I felt obligated to respond, "I can't get the video to play. But don't give up! Never give up!"

I knew from previous posts that Torry's beloved dogs had run away earlier in the week, leaving him quite distraught. But after posting, and figuring the grown comedian would find his way with God, I put my phone back down and took in the view.

In time, I glanced down at my phone again and realized the video had downloaded. Curious, I listened to Torry's tale which involved lost dogs, a late departure, a flat tire, a short cut that led to a closed highway, hot coffee that spilled, shorts that flew out the window as they dried, and a driver left in green boxer shorts in need of a pit stop to dig out fresh pants. 

At that point, I laughed out loud. While Torry was genuinely distraught, I knew the read-headed Santa Clause look-alike would be okay. Having read some of his book, Of Moose and Men, I knew overcoming piled-up crazy was a way of life for him. 

But then I considered my recently self-crowned royal status and questioned if I was out of touch.

Sitting high on my throne far above the little people, able to see miles away as a light breeze blew on a bugless night, Torry's desperate concern hadn't fazed me. 

Not even a little.

Why? Because behind my sanctimonious facade, I knew that I, too, was a tiny person, held by an omnipotent God, whose love knows no bounds.

Suspended in vacation mode up near the clouds, I could see into the days ahead where Torry's current press would evolve into eternal good. Just like mine.

Within a few days, Torry's dogs were found and I drove home. But the intersection of his bad day and my reign on the grand terrace reminded me that the view from heaven is even grander than the one I enjoyed last week. 

God's big picture understanding of the storms in our lives reaches far beyond the limits we see. 

Yes, we're emotionally stuck in the limits, sometimes more than others. But no matter the situation, He offers a perspective that can help us rise above the grip of humanity. 

At least, that's what I believe.