TAKING THE PLUNGE

I’ve waited all my life for a 60-second plunge — and it met all my lofty expectations.
After being invited to participate in a tandem skydive — the price was right: telling you about it in this column, a debt that is now paid — I called my sister, who reported she has chills. Then I call my boyfriend to make him jealous, a ploy that worked.
I decide against calling my mother.
I arrive at 11 a.m. Saturday at Raeford Parachute Center which, conveniently enough, is at the Raeford airport. I enter a central hub and the photos and newspaper articles displayed on the wall heighten my anticipation. Put me in that harness, and let me fly.
But the weather isn’t cooperating, so I take a seat, and read “The Screwtape Letters.”
John, who will pilot the plane, sits next to me. His is a voice of reason: “Sometimes you just have to wait these things out — there’s not much else you can do.”
He tells me about his 25 years of piloting and his 29 years of jumping from planes. But my mind races. I want to jump — not sit.
But there will be no flying today. Instead of boarding the PAC 750 that cruises at 195 mph, I board my Volvo 240 that sometimes can’t even reach 70 mph, bummed that Mother Nature is adding another day to my lifelong wait.
On Sunday, I make the same drive, and Tony — the owner of Raeford Parachute Center — greets me.
“This is my friend Gena,” Tony tells assembled divers who are hanging around.
I meet Roy, who will jump with me and video-record my adventure. “What a sweet job,” I think.
I meet another Tony, my tandem partner. Roy returns.
“Don’t tell my mom, but I’m about to jump out of a plane,” I say to his camera. He zooms over to Tony, who’s been jumping out of planes since I was soiling diapers.
“Don’t tell my mom either,” Tony says jokingly.
I put on my blue jumpsuit.
“You ready?” Tony asks.
My goofy grin is my nod yes.
“Say something to the camera,” he says.
The words won’t come, and all I can offer is, “I don’t know what to say” — cleverness that is forever captured on video.
“People of all walks of life come in these doors — doctors, lawyers, plumbers, carpenters, five-star medalists,” he says. “People don’t realize who they are jumping with, because here, you’re not a doctor or a lawyer — that’s the beautiful thing about it.”
Roy, Tony and I walk up to a life-sized model plane to rehearse.
“Head up. Arch your back, and point your toes,” Tony the Instructor tells me.
There’s plenty of room in my empty brain.
Twelve of us pile into a PAC 750, a plane made for sky-diving, and straddle two benches. The plane roars to life — signaling a new adventure.
Tony leans his head down on my shoulder as we wait and wait and wait for the plane to ascend two and a half miles. Two people disappear from the plane.
We inch nearer the door. Two more jump out.
For the first time, I feel fear — and I smile.
“Roy is going to go out first. Wave to the camera, and then when we jump out, do what we practiced,” Tony says.
My stomach gurgles. I wave. We jump. I am tardy arching my back and then I look up at the plane. This feels flippin’ fabulous.
Tony taps me on the shoulder, a signal to look down, relax and enjoy my 120 mph freefall that will last a single minute.
The wind tries to rip the skin from my bones.
The sky is a perfect blue and the ground is a satellite map. My mind is empty again.
“This is awesome,” I yell to the camera, which Roy has positioned an arm’s length from my smiling face.
I mouth to the camera, “I love you mom,” and then look down at the freshness of an Earth that is growing larger. I give the camera two thumbs up.
I am grateful that 60 second feels like forever.
After an 8,000-foot plunge, the canopy deploys, putting on the brakes. The wind stops whacking us. I stand on Tony’s feet and push my harness up to release the tension. My left ear pops. Tony loosens my harness and asks me how I’m doing.
“Great. Absolutely great.”
He gives me control of the parachute. We circle to the left and then to the right.
The five-minute ride ends when my knees catch a little grass. We come to a rest in a seated position — Tony underneath me. The bright purple and pink parachute swishes in overhead.
“You can stand up now.”
Everyone asks me how it was.
“It was all right,” I say kiddingly, and then I tell the truth. “It was freakin’ awesome.”
I can’t wait to show the video to mom.

so close

A 16-year-old gets a brand spanking new car. He wrecks it the next day, and his father buys him another one. I saw that too often in high school, and I hated it — but I was glad it was never me.
I can’t say I’m the world’s most patient person — in fact, I have the worst time being patient. Ask my mom. (Or better yet don’t, because she might not yet know what I’m about to do.) But I have to say that I’m a pro at learning about patience. It sneaks up on me in random places — like at a sky-diving joint in Stoke County.
I’ve wanted to go sky-diving for about five years. And today the dream was supposed to come true.
My brother-in-law asked me the night before if I was excited. My response — I try to have no expectations in these kinds of things. I try to keep my head clear so I don’t stay up all night thinking about what it might be like.
But after an hour of driving, a little getting lost, and arriving at a place that looked very similar to the scuba-diving shops on the Honduran islands, I was finally ready to let my mind go wild.
I sat down in the puke-green cushioned fold-out chair in the 8’ by 8’ room watching a video and signing my life away — Mom, you’re not allowed to sue if I die, OK?
I watched as others talked about their adventures. I looked at the pictures, letters and newspaper articles on the wall. I felt that excitement in my stomach grow, and suddenly it was like my water broke. I was ready. Nothing can stop me now. Get me in that jump suit. But on that harness, and let me fly.
But the damn storm clouds stopped my momentum. And I was told to just wait around for a while and see if they go away.
Wait? I have to wait. What does that mean? So I sit down at a red table outside and look at The Screwtape Letters I brought with me, not thinking I’d actually get to open them.
John, the pilot, sits down next to me. “Sometimes you just have to wait these things out — there’s not much else you can do.”
In Gena’s world, for the most part, I’m in control. Clouds, red lights, and meetings are all scheduled into the calendar I keep in my head. With as much stuff as I have going on in my life, I rarely have time to just sit down and chill out. I forget what that’s like.
Honduras brought that out of me. It taught me that I didn’t need to know every detail before planning a trip, or walking into a new situation — which really helps out in the line of work I’m in.
Patience patience go away, come back on a Sunday — maybe in May.
I enjoy listening to people’s stories, but they need to be scheduled in. This wasn’t part of the plan. John talks to me about his 25 years of piloting and his 29 years of jumping out of planes. But my mind can’t relax. I want to jump. I don’t want to sit. So John shows me the plane I’ll jump out of. I sit down and listen to him tell me what all the gadgets and buttons do. “Flying is fun. It keeps your brain engaged,” he says. He tells me if I ever take flying lessons, I’ll see a whole new dimension to life.
I wonder when I can sign up. But still in the back of my mind, I’m yelling at the stupid clouds for getting in my way. And then I yell at myself for not being more flexible and going with the flow. The skies start to open up and we see some bright blue. A little bait to see if I’ll bite. But then as more time passes, it’s the only blue showing, and I’ve got something else written on my list of things to do today. So I tell Tony, the owner, we’ll reschedule, and he apologizes.
“No worries, Tony.” You can’t control the weather, I think. And think some more. There is always a reason for that. As life is its own science project, there will always be dependent variables thrown my way. I heard a saying once that patience is like a tree with bitter roots but sweet fruit. I swear that bitterness is more memorable, but waiting for something I want so bad, only makes me appreciate it more. I know this for a fact. Hopefully the next 48 hours will awaken an appreciation for being as close as I’ve ever been to a dream come true.

Correct me Lord

Jeremiah 10:23 "Oh Lord, I know the way of a man is not in himself; it is not man who directs his own steps. Correct me Lord, but in justice. Not in your anger lest you bring me to nothing."

The sad thing is, lately, I've been convicted of some serious offenses to God. I gotta look at my sin -- all sin as disgusting. B/c it is to Him. The sweetness of His mercy, tho, is that even as I walk in that sin, and know I am walking in it, he still gives me time to turn around. Time and time and time again... oh that he would never bring me to nothing from his anger...but that I would always remember how capable He is of doing that...AND ... how much I actually deserve that!
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An update

Fireworks. Beach bands. Rodeos. Ferris Wheels and candy apples. I have had my fair share of the Robeson County fair this past week. I'm in tight with the president of the fair board, since I see him sometimes twice a day. It's been a lot of reporting, a whole lot of stories, but it's been fun. I get home completely exhausted and basically pay monthly rent for a place to lay my head...quite literally. So far, all the "OH MY GOsh YOU"RE MOVING WHERE???" responses I heard over the past two months, has only proved to me, that you really do make the place you live in.

I have gone hang-gliding. I rode on an Elephant. I ate chitlins (is that how you spell it?). I've learned about horse-therapy. I've taught Spanish 3x a week for the past month and a half. I ride my bike every once in a while. I climbed a tree in the middle of my run through the beautiful city cemetary. I danced to a beach band with a 7-year-old girl who just met me that night. (It was LOVELY) I danced with Andy to a Mariachi band at the fair rodeo. I'm supposed to go sky-diving. I watched a chain saw competition. These are things I've experienced in that Oh-my-gosh-place called Lumberton.


La vita e dulce. Quite seriously, although I don't have much time to watch TV, (not that I pay for cable, i'm so cheap) or even read a book for pleasure lately...life is full, and pregnant...ready to give birth to more adventures, more insights, more pains and joys...right where I am. I just gotta chase 'em down...and well I certainly plan to.

hope life is full for you too. if it's not, come visit me!