I thought I passed this test already . . .

So, here I am, another airport, another delay. Here's the scene: I'm sitting right now in the D section of the Portland airport next to an empty kiosk where the phone has been ringing incessantly for the last 5 minutes. I didn't notice it until I opened my computer, however, and now I don't really want to move. Maybe its ringing because there's a message on it or something.

Well, I could have been flying right now, but we happened to take the wrong airport exit on the way here. When I came to check in for my flight the machine put me on standby, even though the flight was not set to leave for another 30-40 minutes. I made it to the gate in time, and watched as others lined up to fill the flight I should have been on. I approached the desk and asked if I could board the flight. I was informed that I and my bags could not fly separately. I wouldn't have minded, especially since I don't see the logic behind that rule, but reality remained unchanged - and now I've been changed from a 1:30 flight to an 11pm flight . . . yay . . . another night of travel.

I went to the bathroom and cried. I've been aching to see Ethan and the girls, and just when getting home was in my line of sight, our meeting was set back another 12 hours. I called Ethan immediately and let him know (via voice mail) that I wouldn't be in until the next morning. More calls, more disappointments . . . oh well. One thing I'm realizing through this:
I've always joked that my personal utopia would consist of a room filled with books and a piano in the corner. I thought I could easily pass the time between the two: well, that's not true. I have lots of reading material with me, and there's even a piano here - which I did play a little, by the way. But this is not good, not good at all. I like people! I miss my beautiful, mischevious girls, and my amazing husband. I would rather fill the afternoon with a good visit. But alas! My phone is nearly dead, and I have no charger.

My personal trials feel tragically comical. In chatting with Ethan, I shared that at least there was a Wendy's here - a bright spot in the midst of all these other, darker threads. "The only way things could get worse is if they completely run out of whatever I want to order." Well, it got funnier. . . The sweet lady who dropped me off at the airport saw that I had missed my flight (she had a flight to catch too). When she saw me sitting there on the bench, slumped down, red faced from crying and still on the phone with Ethan - she felt terrible and insisted that I at least let her buy me lunch before she departed. Would you believe . . .

I looked over the menu and decided on a southwest salad. "I'm sorry. We're all out." Hmmm . . . "Could I get some chili-cheese fries?" I ventured again. "No, I'm sorry. That's out too." "Well, do you have any chili?" I thought this conversation was so funny, because I had just thought things couldn't get any more tragical. Well, I finally decided on a chicken sandwich, a baked potato, and cheesy fries. Did I forget to mention I hadn't had anything to eat all day except two grapes I snatched before heading out to church this morning? Anyway, after eating, I walked around, slept awhile, played the piano, then decided to head over to Starbucks to use my newly acquired gift card to get a snack. Guess what? That's right. Closed. For the day. Wendy's? Closed until 8:30 tonight. So here I am, still sitting by a phone that hasn't stop ringing since I sat down to write, and I could count on one hand the number of people in my line of sight.

Well, there you have it. My good friend, Troy once challenged a group of young people to ask the question, "If your life was a book, would you read it? If your life was a movie, would you want to watch it?" Well, if my life was a movie, this would probably be one of the funnier parts . . . Maybe God is still showing me what it means to surrender to the unknown. Haha. Oh well.