I do not understand physics enough to know why planes need tails. I have heard that aircraft fly better with them attached, as do kites and helicopters, and even birds. I like that they still work in cloudy weather and at night.

Maybe it has to do with holding the airplane on course. Wings are handy for keeping you aloft, although I don't exactly comprehend that either. John and I went to a science museum with our kids and played with mega fans and plastic arm wings. I felt the invisible force that lifted me, and learned that it is true in a way I had only borrowed belief for before, though I still am a long way from understanding. 

 

Perhaps Orville and Wilbur suffered a few crashes before they added tails to their design. I wonder if they ever tried to tape one on mid flight, when things were getting wobbly. After that they would have known that it is best to weld it on tightly before you start the engine.

 

The nose of the plane has every intention of going forward, but sans tail it can start to yaw and pitch. I find it intriguing that a limb perched in the rear of the plane can influence the front. 

 

I have been told that planes fly fast, though the paradox is that while I am standing in the cabin of a 747 I can easily be persuaded that we are stationary. I glance out the window for a reference point, to prove to myself that we are indeed moving, but the fields and buildings seem impossibly far away. 

My marriage sometimes feels like a plane 30,000 feet up. We are careening through space at a breakneck speed, carrying our children, our dreams and some baggage. There are ideas that I fastened to my relation-ship before I took off.

 

"True marriage love is the most excellent of all uses, for from it is the procreation of the human race and from the human race, the angelic heaven." 1

 

Those twenty eight words have influenced my direction and increased my elevation. They echo in my brain when I cannot find the way through the clouds that obscure my vision. I say them to myself when everything is pitch black, to steady my relationships from yawing and pitching off course. The quote was part of my take off, and when I feel unsure of where I am headed I look over my shoulder to see if it is still there. It always is. I don't fancy trying to attach it mid flight. 

 

The thought, riveted to my being, calibrates our destination and the reason for getting there. Sometimes I try to find visible proof that I am indeed headed in the direction of raising angels, but the celestial landscape feels distant. I am easily duped that we are standing still.

 

I don't understand how wings and tails work. But I do know that I need them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Chara Odhner

www.caringformarriage.org