In the ordinariness of our lives, we wait. What else can you do? The Boeing 777 is a massive construction of 3 million different parts crafted from aluminum, carbon fibre, plastic and wires. It weighs 766,000 lbs – the equivalent of 10 loaded logging trucks flying through the air (flying through the air!) carrying 47, 890 gallons of fuel. Some of us are still hoping that it landed on some tropical Gilligan’s island with a darn good airstrip; that whoever took over the controls knew what they were doing and landed flight MH370 somewhere safely. That the sudden change of direction was not the end for the passengers, that the days of their lives not yet lived, were not erased by an incapable or heartless pilot.
And what about us? Every morning somehow, without much talent or training, we summon 60,000 miles of blood vessels, 78 organs, 206 bones, 650 odd muscles, and 16 gallons of water wrapped up in 21 square feet of skin, to engage in the first miracle of the day: getting out of bed. Before we’ve even had coffee, hundreds of messages from our nerve endings have been whipping up to our brain at 170 miles per hour. Somehow we coordinate this unlikely collection of tissue and sinew to feed the dog, pack the lunches and back the car out of the driveway.
And at end of the day, all we really want to know is that it meant something, that it wasn’t just random cells firing to get us through another day, who cares where? Because we don’t always have another day. Perhaps that’s the one thing we do have control over. It really is up to us to point this beautiful creature that is our self – the miracle that contains us – towards the things that matter. That we aren’t hijacked by something we didn’t see coming.