A day among friends.

Today was our annual church picnic. It was a trifecta of good things: a huge turnout of church family and friends, perfect weather and good food.

Also, I thought, a good time to overcome a fear. Of heights.  There is a skylift at Knoebel's Grove. Harmless enough.  The past couple of years I've managed to ride the giant ferris wheel with hardly any panic.  And after all, everyone from little wee kids to old folks, older than me even, seemed to be happy and calm and alive getting down from this lift.

So my son and I made it our first stop.  We were scooped up by the bench and off we went.  Up and up and up and up.  Across the road, over the tree tops and up and up and UP the mountain!  I wasn't expecting to be so high.  I wasn't expecting the thing to jiggle and shake and rock and occasionally, stop.  I tried to distract myself and prevent the panic that was building by taking pictures and thinking what a birds-eye view we had.  Then I looked over at my son: eyes closed, white-knuckled hands clenched on the handlebars.  Trying to make conversation, he told me 'just don't talk, mom'.

And we made it down. And safely off.  With a series of more jiggles and rattles and pauses and shakes, we planted our feet firmly on the ground.

My sons and I are alike in more ways than I thought.