Thu 31 Mar 2011
Normally this would challenge my patience. However, as so many of the people around me have already ditched their cool, the theater of their responses offers experience enough.
I do not delight in their frustration. I’m just happy that in this one moment, I have declined the invitation to throw a temper tantrum. So as I look across me at the frustrated mother that tosses anger grenades on her children like a pitching machine, I know that has been me. I know that could be me. No finger pointing, simply grateful for this reprieve for my own family.
Flight delayed sets the table for an unexpected repast, a welcome opportunity to sit still as my thoughts go ambulatory.
For instance, I realize that I have not been at an airport since my recent binge of the entire six seasons of Lost on Netflix. I admit that I miss Hurly and still wonder why Ben Linus wouldn’t go into the church, what work he felt called to finish. Lost was a festival of brokenness, broken people, broken island, broken relationships. As I look around me, I marvel how intact people appear outwardly in their Ralph Lauren shirts and Reef flip flops that comfortably stage caramel-apple-brown pedicures while inwardly, we’re all like Jack and Kate. Or Libby, I’d rather be a Libby than a Kate, tragic end notwithstanding.
If you were a character on Lost, which character would you be and why?
The Baby just asked if she could peel off with The Husband to help him find lunch. She skipped into his open arms with a giggle joy like you hear in a family neighborhood when the ice-cream truck lets rip its siren song that promises Dreamsicles. She leapt into her father’s arms and knew she was perfectly happy and completely loved. It struck me as she did that she really had no idea where they were going. She was in the harbor of her father’s arms and trusted its safety and his direction. It was one of those Abba moments when I drank in the presence of my Father’s arms that cradle me in every day. Would that I trust His Direction with the purity that my daughter just found in her papa’s embrace.
Just the phrase tags associations like kids call “You’re It!” at the park.
There’s been a slight delay.
Don’t delay, buy today.
I’ve been delayed.
Late payment penalties.
I’m late. (tardy)
I’m late. (preggers)
Regardless of the spin, I’m socially wired to abhor delays.
Oh so, Verruca, “I want it now!”
I want to be on time!
I’m Bard-bent to participate on my own terms, “Hold me not, let me go!”
Delay quickens stress that spins the balance of my over-scheduled paces like the Tea Cups at Disney Land.
As I sit here with a boarding pass that won’t let me go anywhere any time soon and front row tickets to the anxiety antics of the would-be passengers all around me, I realize how ridiculously I strive to drive my agenda on my own strength.
I am not freaking out, because this delay has absolutely nothing to do with the work that I do for others. It’s just an inconvenience, not a hardship to those who count on me. In this blessed context, not one person waits for me to arrive on the other end. I am not late to pick up a child. I am not late for a meeting. I am not late to teach a lesson. I am not late to carry a meal.
No one is disappointed.
I’m not missing anything.
I’m just delayed.
This makes me reconsider how The Baby jumped into her papa’s arms. His embrace captured her delight even though she did not know where they were going or what they might find once they got there.
I need to trust the One that made not only me, but Time itself. I want to jump into the arms of He who breathed Life into the Universe and delight even though I don’t know where I am going or what I will find when I get there.
As her papa carried The Baby down the concourse in search of a chicken sandwich, she looked ahead and smiled confidently.
Trust My timing.
I am going to snuggle up in the arms of Love, sit in this chair and smile.
I am not one minute late.
His Love lets me go.
His Love sets me free.
I did my best, it wasn’t much
I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch
I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah!