July 1, 1997:
As I write this on the jet speeding over the Pacific toward China, with Linda asleep on 3 airline seats beside me in the center of the plane, I ponder the events of today. First of all, today didn't have much of a chance to occur. It started normally enough. We took the shuttle from the hotel to the airport. Though we were scheduled to take a flight at 1:30 PM, since we were in line at 10:30 AM, Linda suggested we might be able to take the earlier flight, which left at 11:50 AM. I asked if we could and they said it was no problem. The flight had been booked solid when Linda had initially tried to get on that flight. Since most everyone had successfully gotten to Hong Kong earlier for the big changeover, this flight was only half full. We had plenty of room to spread out. But what do I mean when I say the day did not have much of a chance to occur?
I have reset my watch to 6:00 AM Hong Kong time, July 2. So July 1 is a done deal, it is like it has been deleted from the huge calendar in the sky. All time is relative, I believe. It just looks as if the hands of the clock move in a meaningful and logical manner. One can really sense how much time is a part of the great illusion we think we're in. Linda has left her watch set to Pacific Standard Time so if I need to know what time my body thinks it is, I ask her. Sometimes she needs to know what time it will be when we arrive and I tell her. We're quite a team and, conceivably, could be helpful to anyone on the plane who might need this type of information.
The plane is carrying over a high percentage of Asian people to China. Once a mother walked down the darkened aisle (they were showing a movie) with her young daughter, probably two years old. Needless to say, it brought tears to my eyes as Linda pointed her out. Soon we will have a little one just about like her. Except she will be ours. And God's, of course.