Here’s what I love: traveling. I love everything about it. Packing and planning—deciding what outfits to bring, fitting everything in my suitcase just right (usually taking way too many pairs of shoes), imagining what we will do each day and knowing that I’ll be dressed appropriately for the occasion. I even love the actual travel—although I prefer flying to driving. I love watching the countryside whiz by. I love people-watching in airports. I love the excitement of take-off and the happy feeling of being lifted into the clouds with my forehead pressed against the dirty Plexiglas window. I especially love arriving at my destination. Finding my bag, finding a cab, exploring the new city, being greeted with a hug from a loved one. When the destination is a beautiful one, I love just breathing in the air, listening to the new sounds, watching the sunset. Travel often means, yummy food, slow walks after dinner, gorgeous views, or historic sites.
Here’s what I hate: interruptions to my travels. At this very moment, a week ago, I was sitting on an airplane ready for take-off. It was to be the last of three flights I had to take to make it from Kentucky to Massachusetts where I would meet my husband for our anniversary celebration on Nantucket Island where we had honeymooned twelve years before. I was so happily engrossed in my book, that I didn’t even realize we had been sitting on the runway for nearly two hours! Finally, they began updating us with the problem. Something was wrong with a printer on the plane, which, for legal reasons, had to be working. Did you know that airplanes have printers on them now? Was it just jammed or what?? So, after IT showed up to try to fix the airplane’s printer problem, we sat some more. Then, a huge thunderstorm was rolling in, so, they booted us off the plane and cancelled the flight. Just like that.
I choked back tears as I departed the cute little plane, which I had snapped a photo of in the sunshine two hours before when I was sure it was going to carry me to Nantucket and into the arms of my beloved. Now, I was darting through the gray wind back into the airport terminal to find out my fate for the evening. A uniformed Delta agent told me that I could stand in line to re-book for the next available flight or stand at the service phones and use them to re-book. I chose the longer line which would put me talking to a real live person at the end of it. I needed them to see the mascara running down my face.
As I stood in line, I called my husband who had made it to Nantucket before the storm and was extremely disappointed that I would not be sharing pizza with him as we did the first night of our honeymoon twelve years earlier. I cried harder at this realization. I called Delta from my cell-phone while I was in the line just to see if I could get something quickly accomplished. Things did not look promising. There were no more flights out that evening, but I could get on the first plane out in the morning. Fine, I was booked on the 8:30 AM flight out of JFK. I still needed a hotel for the night. I stood my ground in the line. I looked around at the other people in line. We were all waylaid from our intended travel plans. We were all stuck in an ugly place. None of us was where we wanted to be.
Finally, at the front of the line, I managed a smile and kind word to the Delta agent behind the counter. He confirmed that I was indeed booked on the first flight out in the morning, and that there were no other options for this evening. He also told me that since the flight was cancelled “due to weather,” Delta would not pay for my hotel. Next to me, a short 20-something girl with bottled red hair was yelling at the Delta rep and demanding free tickets, hotel, and to be put on the earliest flight. She was super angry about the whole thing. I calmly told my rep about the mysterious “printer problem” which had kept us on the tarmac for nearly two hours. He made a phone call and then quietly gave me vouchers for hotel and airport food. So, I was all taken care of. But, I still felt very alone.
Fortunately, I had friends and family encouraging me via cell phone and praying for me. Both my mom and dad talked to me for a long time. My sweet mother-in-law looked into alternate flights out of other cities to try to make it to Nantucket. My loving husband cried with me and prayed for me as I was in NY all alone and so wanted to be with him as we had originally planned. I bought a toiletry kit in the airport, grabbed a smoothie for dinner and jumped the shuttle for the hotel. On the shuttle, I got asked about my destination, and got to tell my whole poor, pitiful story of how my husband was already in Nantucket for our anniversary, but I had gotten waylaid and would be spending the night alone at the airport Doubletree. “Awe, you poor thing” the shuttle riders cooed in unison. I felt better just having someone commiserate with me.
My friend Julie told me to go to the hotel and take a bath. (That bath helped immensely, but since my bag was checked through to my 8:30 AM flight, I did not have clean underwear—so, I had to flip them inside out post bath. Lovely.)
Once I was snug in my bed at the hotel, I reflected on my day of travel. It had started out incredibly smoothly. Two connections made with plenty of time for meals in the airports. Nice, smooth flights on which I got to read my book and chat with kind passengers. Everything was going exactly as planned. Exactly as I deemed it should. Until the printer problem, and the storm, and the lines, and the tears.
Just before my exhausted, emotionally drained body could drift off to sleep, a few thoughts entered my head. (A person must write down hazy pre-sleep thoughts when one is a writer.) So I grabbed my phone and pecked away in Evernote...here is what I realized.
We are all traveling through life. This is not a newsflash, it’s probably an over-used analogy, but it’s true nonetheless. Long, or short, travels always have variables. Flat tires, road construction, traffic problems, broken printers, bad weather…There are always things delaying us from reaching our destination. We usually still get there, it’s just not in the way or time we would have liked.
As Christians, we are traveling to heaven. Our life is the journey. And just like any trip, we map it out—we pack what we think we’ll need. We plan what to wear for various occasions, we imagine what we will do each day, we think we know how the journey should go: grow up healthy, play sports, take piano, family road trips, prom, graduation, college, job, marriage, kids, houses, friends, accolades… But, delays happen. Disease strikes, our parents divorce, we don’t get asked to prom, college costs money, we don’t get the job we wanted, we aren’t married by the time we are 25 as we planned, we struggle with infertility, we can’t afford a house. Suddenly what we had planned as a lovely journey is looking more like a hideous long line at a dismal airport surrounded by a bunch of strangers.
What do we do in these times of delay? What do we do when things don’t go according to our plans? Well, we cry for one thing. It’s very difficult to hold back tears of disappointment. But, at some point, we raise our chins, wipe our faces, and open our eyes and look around. These strangers around us are stuck too. They probably aren’t where they want to be either. And maybe they don’t have friends and loved ones on the other end of their cell phones praying for them. Maybe they are truly alone and doubly bitter about the wrench in their plans. So, they yell and they demand compensation. Maybe it makes them feel better, but, maybe I am there to help them feel better.
After all, don’t I claim to have a bottomless supply of joy inside? Don’t I know the secret to contentment and peace regardless of my circumstances. I mean, it’s easy to tap into those sentiments when I’m squinting at the clouds out my plexiglass window, but when I’m sitting on a dirty airport carpet, it’s not as easy. Delays and times of disappointment are often opportunities to rest in my Constant One, but instead, I dissolve into a mess of tears, worry, and fear. These are the opposite of strong faith in One who I believe is leading my life and has a plan for every detour. Do I think He’s not here? Not caring? Ruining my vacation for the fun of it? Or do I open my eyes and see Him carrying me through the difficult parts of the journey just as He carried me through the sunny parts?
I take a deep breath and realize He’s still with me. With me in this annoying airport line, in this random Doubletree Hotel in Queens, in this time away from my sweet husband—He’s still here. Immanuel after all. With this realization and new-found strength, I can smile. I can share this comfort with those around me who are also stuck and sad and disappointed and angry. Besides, it’s a lot easier to comfort someone who is stuck and sad when I am standing next to them with mascara running down my own face instead of sitting pretty in an airplane in the clouds.
Do you feel discouraged about the way your journey is going?
Amazing post. Can't say anymore. Simply amazing and beautiful words! Thanks you. Jamie
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