Finally made it . . .

Right now, I am sitting in the Chicago airport - waiting, on standby. Last night Ethan called a couple of our friends, Ryan and Phil, and they drove from Salem to keep me company for a few hours before flying out at six. Phil pointed out that the moral of my travel story was: Mekeisha should never travel alone. I agree. I am way too mad-hatterish in my mentality to keep track of flights, times, gate numbers, etc. Thank goodness the guys came! It eased an otherwise overly frustrating evening. We actually drove into Portland, where we found a very eclectic restaurant. The guys ordered biscuits and gravy and I had a grilled turkey, cheese and avocado sandwich. Yummy! Afterwards we went to a doughnut shop and each got a doughnut. Mine had a butterfinger topping, but I was so full by then that I couldn’t eat the whole thing. We returned to the airport around 4 am and met up with a guy I had chatted with earlier. He was actually flying to Hawaii to meet up with a friend who had been involved with YWAM before. Interesting, huh?

Well, I caught that flight, slept most of the way to Chicago, and found my way to my next gate. Some cool guy with a ponytail and black-painted fingernails loaned me his phone so I could call Ethan and give him an estimated time of arrival. I approached the United desk to see what my chances of catching a flight were, but the lady hastily dismissed herself, saying she needed to go to another gate to help there. I met a tall black guy who has played basketball several places in China. We chatted it up - and even plotted to get some names and personal information in order to make a documented complaint later. Nice guy. But those United attendants in Chicago were just not very nice at all. Oh well.

I got a hot chocolate at the nearest Starbucks and patiently waited until the United attendant announced over the intercom that the flight was completely filled, and passengers who had wait-listed would now have to go to an entirely different wing of the airport to take a chance at catching the next available flight. After walking for nearly 10 minutes and waiting another hour and a half, I approached the desk to get a guesstimate as to whether my chances of getting on the next flight were good or not. The reply? “We are overbooked by four people and have 12 others on the waiting list. You are sixth.” Sigh, another disappointment. I mentally prepared myself for the prospect of staying in the airport another three hours. Not the happiest thoughts, there . . .

I found a plug in for my computer and proceeded to sign onto the internet connection so I could give Ethan a heads up as to what was going on. “M Smith, please report to gate F4. M Smith.” the lady called a couple times before I recognized my name. I approached the gate and checked in - just in time. I was the last one to board the flight. I know I should have been all smiles, but I was so tired from the previous 25 hours of travel, and the mental drain of preparing for another disappointment, that I boarded with hardly a word and nodded off before we left the ground . . .

I love stories, I really do. It’s just that some stories are easier to imagine than live out. One of the girls in the class I taught this week told me, “You’re the first person who ever told me following Jesus would be hard.” Wow. What kind of Christianity are we trying to live out? It seems it would be much easier to suffer if it were a direct result of following Christ. To experience trials because of distractedness has no glory attached to it. Ultimately, though, I realize this time has probably worked more character than a million problem-free flights could have.

The more opportunities I am allowed to share, the more seriously I see Paul’s words in Corinthians - “I beat my body (discipline myself) so that after I have taught others, I do not become a castaway myself.” Well, there’s nothing like 32 hours of travel and sleeplessness to afford me the opportunity to exercise discipline. Yay for opportunities!