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August16, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - How Do You Mend A Broken Heart >> |
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We've reached the middle of the week. I hope everyone is enjoying it so far. It seems extra long to me this week. I spent the day yesterday thinking it was already Wednesday. I even called into a regular Wednesday conference call and sat there for 20 minutes waiting for the rest of the team to call in. I had a choice, I could think, "Darn! Now my week will seem like day longer," or I could think, "Cool!! I have another wonderful day of life to enjoy." I went with the happier of the two. I bring you another repeat story tonight. I hope you enjoy it. Faith Years ago, at an office Christmas party, the subject of skydiving came up. We probably had too much Christmas cheer in us, because everyone thought it was a great idea for an office "fun-day." We agreed, if we could find a school capable of teaching fools how to safely jump from an airplane, then we would be first in line. Leave it to me. I was at my local pizza joint one afternoon, and there on the door was a sign, "Learn To Skydive". I called the guys and decided they must be still full of Christmas cheer, because they all said, "Alright! Let's do it!" On the big day, my co-workers and I gathered at the skydiving school. We expected a small airport, a couple of buildings, and a platform to do practice jumps. What we found was a farmers field, a couple of tents, a port-a-potty and a picnic table with "2x4"'s attached to simulate the door and wing strut of the plane. We also expected a big plane - A plane big enough for us to stand by the open door and leap out, but the school supplied a Manta Bullet. The Bullet normally has four seats, but on this particular plane, to make room for the jumpers, they removed all but the pilot's seat. For six hours we pranced around the farmers field in practice equipment and did pretend jumps from the picnic table. They taught us how to squeeze through the door of the plane, hang with one hand on the wing strut and one on the door frame, one foot out the door and the other in. When we were ready, the jump-master would yell, "GO!", and we'd step away from the plane. They gave us a written exam and certified us ready to leap, to what we hoped would not be our deaths, in a professional manner. We strapped on our parachutes and were checked and double checked by our instructors. The chutes, although safe, were not built for comfort. They resembled back packs, only heavier and with more straps. Two straps came over my shoulders, one crossed my chest, and two came up between my legs. We squeezed ourselves into the plane, myself last, I had to be closest to the door. I was the one who got us into the mess and, therefore, elected to be the first to take the plunge. The plane roared to life, and we rocked and bounced down the field. The plane was small and overloaded. To get into the air, before being swallowed by the trees at the end of the runway like wind blown snow, we had to lean forward to put our weight toward the front of the plane for better control. We lifted into the air and began to climb to our jumping height of 3000 feet. As we climbed higher, sweat began flowing from every pore in my body. It ran down my neck, my back, and my face. It ran off the end of my nose and onto the jump master's lap, as he reached forward to remove my pilot chute from it's little sack at my waist. The pilot-chute is a small chute used as drag to pull the main chute from the pack on your back. Experienced skydivers pull this out and toss it behind them when they are ready to open their chutes. New skydivers are not trusted to do this, so the jump master holds it in his hands, and tosses it out of the plane when you step away. This gives you approximately three seconds of freefall before your chute opens. "Relax," he said," You're going to love this." Easy for him to say I thought and checked my pockets for my spare underwear. I was prepared for every possibility. I looked out the window and almost cried. "How high are we now?" I asked our jumpmaster. "1000 feet," He informed me. I looked out the window again. We were going three times this height, and it already looked like a mile. The sweat continued to flow. We finally approached our jump level and the master yelled, "DOOR!" He unlatched the door, and it flew up with a bang against the wing. I now kneeled on the edge of a three thousand foot drop. The wind blew in the door at eighty five miles per hour, caught the sweat on my face, and sent it sparkling in circles before my eyes. The master signaled me to get ready. I forced my way through the tiny door. Hurricane force winds pounded my body. There was no chance to back out now. My time had come. Over the roar of the wind I heard the word, "GO!" and I stepped away. For three seconds I had no clue which direction was which. I was at the mercy of the winds. Everything I learned through-out the day was gone. My mind was blank frozen in terror. I felt the hand God lift me by the shoulders. I thought I was dead, but when Ilooked up I saw the rainbow colors of my parachute. What a beautiful sight. I was floating like a bird; I was an eagle soaring through the blue. I was alive and in control. I wouldn't need those spare underwear after all. I glided to the ground and landed on both feet a short distance from the landing target. That night, safely at home, I reflected on my jump. I had put my worries aside and put complete faith in a thin layer of cloth. If the chute had failed I would not be writing this story today. There comes a time in everyone's life, when we realize we cannot do it all on our own. We need help and put our total faith in someone or something to help us. Many put their faith in their God. They kneel, pray, and ask God to help them. They admit they can't do it alone and need his help. They put their complete trust in his love and wisdom. I hope you have someone you trust enough to float you safely back on your feet. I do! Michael T. Smith Send you comments to mtsmith@qwestonline.com. Now for some comments on my last story. Mike Keep On Waving. Talk to you on the weekend To read more stories or to sign up for my twice-weekly stories, go to: http://archives.zinester.com/86758 Mike We are also scrabble players... It is so nice to just 'be' with each other, no words have to be spoken, nothing has to 'be happening' ~ just a quiet time of togetherness. We don't play with a timer and if we don't finish tonight, we know that we will finish the game tomorrow evening. My question.... what was Ginny's word that left the board open to let you make a 140 point score.... then what was your word? Jan Jan, I made the word Faltered - I had two blnaks to help me. **************** Hi Mike, That was so sweet and true. You are a true romantic. Its that way. Trying to pick the right tiles can sometimes be hard. And boy I have picked some bad ones. LOL But finaly I found the right tile. He is not a romantic but, I love him just the way he is...I hope you and Ginny have a wonderful day.. God Bless and Warm Hugs Sandi Archives http://archives.zinester.com/86758 http://www.zinester.com/cgi/unsub.cgi?86758&0& |
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| << August06, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - The Best Move |
August16, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - How Do You Mend A Broken Heart >> |
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