We sat on the dirt runway as we waited for another plane to land, and just minutes later it was our turn to take off. As we lifted off the dirt airstrip and saw Rumbek fall away, we also noticed a massive dust tornado, followed by a wall of dirt that was blowing in and swallowing the whole of Rumbek. For a couple of minutes while ascending, we watched in fascination as the storm quickly advanced. I even snapped a few pictures.
Then the wind hit us.
The first gust knocked our plane sideways with a horrible bump. In that instant, I had a flash back to a couple of nights before when I’d had a horrible nightmare about watching Jay (our pilot) take off from a dirt airstrip. In my dream, I was sad because that flight had been meant for us, but for some reason we hadn’t boarded. Moments after take-off, we watched as a gust of wind flipped his plane over and it crashed, going up in flames. The dream had been so realistic that I awoke with a start and immediately began praying for Jay. I was in a funk for most of that day as I kept recalling the image of his plane flipping over.
And now we were in that plane in the middle of a monstrous storm with wind gusts of at least 40 mph.
Pure fear completely flooded my body and I began sobbing. It wasn’t just, “Oh, I don’t like flying and wish this would be over already.” I love flying! But this was something completely different. I couldn’t see anything but the visions from that nightmare and I had the worst kind of dread.
I had Clark strapped to my chest in his carrier, and I frantically clutched his head to my chest. The next twenty minutes were the scariest moments of my entire life. The wind began to beat our little Cessna 206 around.
It tipped us sideways at a 45 degree angle. It pushed us up and dropped us dramatically, leaving us momentarily weightless and sending the contents of the plane up to the ceiling. I hit my head a couple of times and I watched water bottles and batteries hit the ceiling and fly haphazardly around the plane each time we rapidly lost altitude. We were flying straight forward, but drifting sideways as the wind blew us off course. With each gust of sideways wind, I could feel Jay fighting against it at the controls.
I was sobbing hysterically, my left arm jammed against the window frame and my left leg hooked under Jay’s seat to brace myself from flying upward again, and my right hand clutching Clark. I watched as Blaise braced himself in the co-pilot’s seat and as Jay worked hard at the controls.
Occasionally, Blaise would turn around to tell me we were okay. Jay was assuring him that we were okay. But I wasn’t convinced. I couldn’t get the image of the burning plane out of my mind.
As we flew into the black storm clouds, I lost it. I began praying. Sobbing, snot mixing with my tears, desperate cries for God to keep our plane in the air. I knew with absolute clarity that if we made it to Arua safely, it would be all God’s doing. I begged God, begged Him to keep us in air.
As I was praying, I suddenly got the most intense and overpowering sense that we were battling the enemy right then and there: 4,000 feet in the air, in the midst of a horrible, rainy season monsoon. This was a culmination of everything we’d been struggling against for the past 6 months. The depression, the illness, the fear, the burn out, the weariness. I knew right then that this storm wasn’t just a coincidence of timing. This was the work of the enemy.
And I began sobbing even harder. I knew that it was a spiritual battle. I knew that the enemy meant to completely take me out. To break me and shatter me more than I already had been. And I was mad and I was terrified and I wanted out of that plane and I wanted my feet on the ground. I wanted it to end. I didn’t want to fight anymore.
So I didn’t.
I surrendered to the Lord and told Him that if it was our day to die, then we couldn’t wait to get home. I wanted to see the rest of my life stretch out over decades, to see Clark grow up, to add to our family. But I surrendered and said, “Lord, your will be done.”
It was only minutes (seconds?) later that the still, small voice whispered, “Today is not your day.” Followed immediately by, “I will carry you. Cassandra, let me carry you!“
I sobbed, because the truth is, through everything we’ve been through, I’ve been trying to do it all on my own strength. I’ve been exhausted by trying to soldier on, not letting the Lord carry me. Not living and operating on His strength. And I’m simply not strong enough to carry the weight of everything we’ve endured. It was in that moment, that terrifying, awful moment while our plane was being thrashed about in the air, that I gave in and gave it up to God.
I do wish I could say that I had such overwhelming peace that I fell asleep even as we flew through the rest of the storm. I didn’t. I was still scared, because MY BABY! I didn’t let go of the window frame until we were completely clear of the wind gusts, and I sat completely still and tense for the next hour and a half until we reached Arua.
But something shifted on that leg of the journey. I did what God had been asking me to do for months: stop trying to do it all on my own and just let Him carry me.
What storm are you facing right now? Are you trying to do it all on your own strength or are you letting the Lord carry you?
