As I was flying today, I looked out the window gazing over the earth and wondered how many times? How many times has it happened in my career? There, out the left side window, I saw the Mississippi River and just wondered, how many times have I crossed you?
Maybe it’s because for 150 years very few people ever got a chance to cross it, and the phrase “west of the Mississippi” was such a popular phrase in society. Or it could be because I think back to 2006 when I first went out to Texas alone and signed a rather large account. Better yet, maybe it’s because, regardless of whether I am coming home or going out on a mission, I can look down, see the river, and know exactly where I am at.
Then, my thoughts turn to the many years and millions of miles I have spent flying across the country, and truly wonder how many times I have crossed this amazing piece of geography. Regardless of what thought triggers in my mind, I can merely look out in vast amazement at the twists and turns of such a massive beast and think about how cool and reflective the Mississippi River is of life in general.
Sometimes things go your way…
Sometimes they don’t go your way…
Sometimes you’re cruising down a current…
Sometimes you’re battling the current with all your might…
Sometimes it’s too murky to see your future and what’s out in front…
Sometimes it’s as clear as a bell…
Sometimes you look at it in amazement…
Sometimes you look at it and you are scared to death to cross it…
Regardless of how you look at things on any certain day, no matter how many times, I fly over the mighty Mississippi and think about something.