On Unexpected Delights and Reminders

Most people who know me see me as a pretty off-the-cuff kind of person. It's how my humor, schedule, and brain work (not always successfully). Flexibility is my ebb and flow. So to begin feeling significantly thrown off by a relatively harmless happening means that something is a little too tightly wound up there in my head. Or, worse yet, my heart.

So as I kicked and screamed, God decided to carve out for me a brilliant retreat. An introvert's paradise, sponsored by Delta. An hour and a half sitting on the plane at the gate in Richmond threatened (and then ruined) my chances of catching my connection in Atlanta. Ironic, I thought, since we were on a "Delta Connections" plane. No later flights out of Atlanta meant staying the night there.

It was much more frustrating in my head than it sounds, believe you me.

I was just ready to be home and woe is me and all of that. It was easier to accept once there was no question that I'd miss the ATL flight and when the 3 year old girl in front of me started being hilarious.

"Momma, it's getting dar-yark-- we should probably get going..."

"Think we should tell 'em, Mom?"

"You know what's good about Georgia? If you like it you can love it, if you don't like it, you don't have to go there. It's easy."

"Momma, where I'm from?"

Just can't help but smile at these things. Then we got to Atlanta and there were patrons with their panties all in a wad enough for all of us, so I figured I should just let it go already and get happy because, well, it really wasn't anyone's fault. Don't try telling that to Joe Throwafit at the counter, though.

I got my vouchers and my boarding pass for 8:30 a.m. on Friday and went to set up shop at the food court. As I sat, munching on my amazing hot dog and fries (really the best of both that I've ever had), the place cleared out and I realized it was mostly just me and the airport. Well, and the people at different restaurants around the court joking around with each other with brooms and mops and "you missed a spots" and "that is not my jurisdictions." Airports are loud and bustling. But somehow it's an oasis for me and I'm okay to just have my piece of still amongst it all.

God knows that tendency of mine. Probably knew I needed it, too. And there it was. Like a wave thats repeatedly crashed against this pier even as I've desperately tried to fortify the exterior against its rush-- there is a purpose for this. It's not a nuisance or even an easy-going attitude to accommodate the glitch in plans. It's not anything of my doing either way-- not any more than a weakening pier can withstand the growing force of hurricane winds, there to make a point.

It finally crossed my mind that maybe God had a point to make. And maybe I should be taking notes. Or, better yet, communicating with Him. So I did, with surroundings that I've always loved. Knowing it was in His hands made the rest of the adventure not only bearable, but desirable. A theme our entire family is beginning to pick up on as we pack ourselves and 21 years up and move it all to Fayetteville.

I arrived at the Days Inn around 11:30 p.m. and was so ready to crash but just couldn't. I was too hyped up remembering everything I love about hotel rooms (after already falling back in love with airports). Even those crazy hotel rooms that you're staying alone in on creepy Phoenix avenue. I had to stay awake for this stepping stone into adulthood-- a milestone solo-mission-style sleepover. I really couldn't even contain myself, let alone choose which of my two double beds to sleep on (I went with the one on the right, not that you care).

Ghetto hairdryer coming off the wall.

Ice bucket! I didn't even have a drink that needed ice, but the trip to the ice machine is such an integral part of any hotel stay.

Terrible coffee that you just have to make because it's there and so convenient and so perfect for bathtime with unlimited, immediate hot water.

Sunflower and grapefruit soap: who knew?!

1993 wallpaper border straight out of my parents bedroom (really, the same one).

Calling the front desk for a wakeup call.

Lights that you have to turn on lamp by lamp (highly scary the first time you enter the room and can't see a dang thing).

Free wifi (by which to write the post that I did that night) and satellite tv (that I fell asleep to).

Complementary breakfast (that I was up too early for, rude!)

I even almost put my clothes in the drawers just because there were so many of them and, you know, because I could. There was so much freedom, and that is no joke.

I don't go about my days feeling stifled. I have a family very supportive of my independent venture north and friends who want nothing but happiness for me. More than that, I worship and seek to serve a God whose very purpose in sending a Savior was to bring freedom to a world then-stifled by Old Testament law. I wonder how many of us still feel burdened by a law eradicated 2000 years ago that finds new avenues to make itself applicable today. How many held back by Satan not dangling bad things in front of us (though he does plenty of that and I, personally, hate him for it) but convincing us that good will do. How many, like me, are frustrated by finding that good is never enough like he promises. See, if anything, my shackles are those that I clench around my own fist-- this idea that if I could just make everyone happy, the world would be a peace. I enslave myself to keeping the peace, to looking blameless, to pleasing people.

But here I was, in either a horror movie or a dream come true, fed, bathed, caffeinated, comfy and warm free to be. Free to admit my faults and recognize hurt. Free to clear my mind and let it be enough-- a springboard, at least-- that I was, indeed, fed and (relatively, hopefully... but in all honestly, truly) safe. Free to be glad about that and not guilty for it. Not guilty for feeling positive and rested, peaceful and optimistic. Guilty only for judging myself by a law, a standard, that I'm freed from to begin with. Guilty only for distancing myself from the real standard-- the one of grace set forth by the living God who wants to come into my every day, my every action. The righteous God who gave all He had to put out the self-righteous flame underneath me in favor of imparting it to me through refinement and forgiveness. The God who promises His presence in the process. He was there and we were free to meet and I don't know that I was appropriately awed at that at the time (I was sidetracked by the tricks listed above).

I am so thankful for it now. As the rest of this break has flown by and been such fun in the company of my blood folk, as I look forward to a lot of work-- academically and emotionally, and as I think of the future in terms of careers (per the airport time, I am re-pumped for the flight attending option) I am not only grateful for the oasis time, but also for that freedom to meet with Him during any of that which anxiously knocks at the door. Thankful for the delight, but mostly for the reminder that accompanied it.