The cathedral where I go to worship was built a hundred years ago. The tower which stretches to the clouds, includes spires the eagles like to visit.  

Recently, the staff has unlocked the door to the spiral staircase leading up to the tower. Not to the tippy top, but to the platform that is over a hundred steps above our heads every Sunday. 

 

Climbing them is a steep effort, round and round, enough to make me dizzy and breathless. But the view is spectacular. Even if the trees were not in their November finery, with the skyline of Philadelphia calling from the horizon, simply rising to a view that dwarfs the garbage trucks and rush hour traffic is a reprieve. 

 

Conversation slows down, when we are eye level to birds. The annoyances that pestered me a few minutes ago have lost their pull, and the looming tasks that hobble me seem less urgent. 

 

It turns out that I cannot stay there long. Responsibilities at sea level are not easily ignored. The humming pace of various jobs keeps me from lingering long in the clouds. Yet, I give thanks for the chance to visit a higher perspective.