"Behold, He has given us all things."

The brightness of the day hurt Richard's eyes, as he squinted through the dirty window of the prison bus. No air conditioning, of course. Not for the likes of people like him, for he was being transfered to court, where he would be sentenced and condemned. His crime? Being a professing Christian.

Richard was old, and very tired. His eyes had seen too much of this life. His wife had died in the raid on their church. His children and their families had scattered for safety. He had no idea where they were, how they were doing, or even if they were still alive. Therefore, he was resigned to his sure fate, for no one was ever found innocent, once accused of this crime.

"How long now, Oh Lord, before You return for us?" Richard, as of late, had always prefaced his prayers with this question.

The bus lurched again, forward a few more feet. They were in one of the perpetual traffic jams in this great West-coast city. Richard heard a familiar sound. It got his attention, because he had not heard it since he was a youth. It was the sound of an ancient aircraft. How odd. Was he becoming dillusional?

Richard again squinted into the light, looking for the source of that sound. They were on a freeway in the south county, next to an abandoned airfield. Apparently, there was an air show of sorts going on. He saw a vintage Tomcat, an old F-18, probably a relic from one of their sister states in the mid-continent kingdom. This jet was more than a century old, and flew using old fashioned petroleum, instead of hydrogen. "Where did they get the gas?" Richard wondered to himself.

"Hey Shardick! I need some air!" Richard shouted to the guard, as he lowed the seat window. Shardick growled, "Go ahead, for all I care. Ye won't be gettin' through them winder bars." His guard was surprised at the request, for his prisoner never asked for anything, nor did he ever complain: Such a strange prisoner, that one.

Richard strained against his leg irons to see the old jet, flying continually back and forth over an old nearby runway in front of a crowded grandstand. He certainly had a good seat, watching from where he was on the prison bus. He saw several other old planes on the ground, off to the side. This Tomcat was beautiful in form, and painted with its old Navy colors. It lazily sliced through the heavy afternoon air, barely using any of its enormous energy to fly simple loops and figure-eights. The pilot probably wanted to baby this old machine. Bright flashes of light reflected from the canopy and the edges of its swept-back wings as it flew through the haze. To Richard, it was absolutely beautiful.

Oh, this brought back memories for him. Since he was little, he always wanted to fly. But it was not to be, for when he joined the military, he could not afford the 'required' payment to the Air Master to purchase flying school. Instead, because he was got good test scores, they put him into aviation electronics. But he never lost his desire to fly, for he always hung around the base airfield, and went to the airshows when they were held.

Today, of all days, to be reminded of this! Of late, nothing in this life had appealed to him. It seems he spent his days waiting to quit this life and move to the next; the one God had promised to all who followed Jesus. "Oh, Lord, will we be able to fly in Heaven?" Thought Richard, to himself, as he watched that old Tom cat maneouver in the sun. He imagined himself up there next to it, just flying beside it, without the need of an aircraft, or a set of wings. "Oh, that would be pure joy!", He thought, as he envied the pilot of that old craft.

The traffic jam was to take a while, it seems. He knew the Lord understood his heart's desire, as he enjoyed the show from his prison bus. "Thank you Lord, for this respite. . . "

* * *

The brightness of the light hit his eyes, as he squinted into the hazy overcast of this day, on this planet now below him.

Richard, having been alone on a walk somewhere in the New Earth, had let his thoughts wander back to the Old Earth, and his life there. He had transported himself to a particular day and place just by thinking about it; the memories of this place and time were stong, and were particularly emotional and clear.

This day, and this place was in front of a vintage air show. Richard saw this, as he descended onto the scene unnoticed.

No one could see him in this world, nor could he change anything, nor contact anyone here, for this world was history to mankind now.

He saw the traffic jam off to his left. There was the prison bus, with him in it, in his old life. Below him now as he slowed his descent was the ancient Tomcat fighter plane, doing slow and lazy loops.

He presently flew along side of it, admiring the sweetness of its design and at the same time, seeing the sadness of its purpose and the crudeness of its manufacture. He could see the plane through the eyes of its creator, but this old world just never had the technology to make dreams come true.

It was easy for him to match each move this aircraft made. He flew along side without any effort or exertion of any kind. It was so easy to do this. He had done it for a few thousand years, yet it never ceased to amaze or thrill him that he could do this!

Richard's heart was joyful as he thought about his other self watching below. On this day he had desired, no, lusted for the ability to fly like this! His Lord perfectly understood his heart of hearts, and the prayerful cry and lament, unspoken upon his lips, down there, as his old self watched from that prison bus. God had again, given him all things, and Richard was in pure joy, as he playfully led and followed that old jet around in the hazy afternoon air.

Miracles happen, and dreams do come true, even as we sit in chains, yearning for our heart's desire. To our prayers and our yearnings, even those unspoken, He has already answered yes. We only need the eyes of faith with which to see this. So have faith, my friends, the Lord Jesus shall indeed give us all things. In fact, He has already done so!