My traveling companions were weary, I was weary. The plane was packed with weary travelers. There were 30 rows, 6 across. I am not a mathematical genius but last I checked that meant there were at least 180 passengers on that jam-packed airliner from the cozy airport in Colorado to the big Dallas one we had been diverted to. I was in the middle seat closest to the lavatory and the airplane kitchenette. I could clearly hear the airline attendants conversation as we were in flight and then later as preparations were made for landing.
They had been cheerful, willingly handing out sodas, pretzels and such. In my mind I was already mapping out the next step, we had been delayed at the Cozy airport, a canceled flight to be exact. The experienced Traveler in our caravan had declared that an outright canceled flight was not an experience she could recall. Yet there we were, essentially stranded but knowing that the King had His hand on us. We had dedicated our trip to Him, in fact it was His business that had taken the four of us Gardendale area girls across the country to the Shadow of Pikes Peak. For several days we had trained together, cried together, eaten together, taken pictures, and most importantly prayed together. In the final moments of that unplanned flight into Dallas though, those memories and thoughts were in the far corners of my mind. Getting to the gate labeled Birmingham, was my priority. As I listened to the sounds in the kitchenette, I had already determined who was in charge that night, which of those ladies who had served us pretzels and demonstrated how to buckle seat belts and place oxygen masks on “in the event of an emergency.” Each had been tasked with a job and I could discern who was who among that flight crew.
I had likened this crew of ladies to teams I had worked with in the past, the experienced and usually in charge one, the funny one, the chatty one, the one who missed her baby and was more than ready to be home, the just-there-because-she-had-to-be one. They were a familiar lot, although I had never actually met them until just a few hours before.
The Baby-misser had spent much of the short flight in the kitchenette talking about child care options. I sympathized. I had been there, I recollected a time when I worked the night shift, dropped my littles off at Mother’s Day Out, and while other mamas were grocery shopping and doing the things out for which Mother’s Day Out was intended, I made my way to my minivan parked beneath a shade tree, where I proceeded to crawl into the back and sleep for a few hours until the appointed pickup time. Those days were hard, a different kind of hard than the current days. Those days when my littles were little were physically exhausting. Days when a trip to the Big Box Store never meant leaving without diapers and wipes. Now the trips to Big Box store yield no more diapers but more in the way of copious amounts of foodstuffs and costly plug-in things. I find in comparison the days of late are emotionally exhausting more than physically. My teenage children sleep and sleep, something my Littles rarely did.
I was pulled back into reality as the Leader echoed words of sympathy and exhorted the Baby-Misser to press on. She offered a few words of sage advice and was interrupted by the Funny one hanging up the special phone and giving a hearty “Hmmph.” I listened between closing compartments and announcements of time and temperature awaiting us in Dallas and then the leader made the statement of the day.
“Sugar Up Girls. That plane is not getting in. It’s been delayed.”
Groans of frustration from the kitchenette. I surmised her years of experience had taught her that the cliché that “more flies can be caught with honey versus vinegar” must have proven to be true. As the leader of the pack she was telling her girls, that they were about to meet a lot of grumpy flies and it just might prove beneficial to be sweet rather than sour.
I giggled as she said that and My companion to my left looked at me with her large dark, expressive eyes (sometimes she reminds me of a Margaret Keane painting) and smiled. Clearly my jovial manner was puzzling. I wondered what the King’s word had to say about the matter. As my friend and I buckled and prepared for landing I made a note about the Sugared Up Flight Attendants and carried on with the awaiting journey ahead.
Sometime later as I was recalling that night, I searched the King’s Word and found in Proverbs the following:
Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body. Proverbs 16:24
The Experienced and In Charge One had been right all along. I wonder how many times my speech had been like sour vinegar, my words more hurtful than helpful. Multiple I reckon. How many times should I or could I have “sugared up” before I spoke? Too many to count. May I be challenged to “Sugar Up” more often and my speech be like sweetness and healing to the body.
bloom. I spent hours discovering how to blow all the “fuzz” off a dandelion in one breath. I lay in my yard with friends and watched the clouds meander by in all their uniqueness. I gloried in the smell of fresh-cut grass and honeysuckles. I would spend days studying the construction of a leaf or watching a grasshopper making his way around my sidewalk. I had no worries about this activity or that meeting. The only agenda I had was to watch a bird fly.
on my back porch staring at me through the window was a cardinal. A beautiful red cardinal with a bright orange beak framed by a black mask. He hopped around blissfully on my porch, enjoying the sunlight and the gentle wind. For a long while, we stared at one another. And the King whispered, “Michele, consider the birds. They don’t worry or toil about the details, and I meet their every need. Seek me first. I’ll take care of everything else.”
Our journey with God is a lot like a road trip. As we pull away from our old home to journey forward with God, we often believe it will be a short trip too. He’s going to do a quick remake of our life and we’ll have a happily ever after. But as days become weeks and years we realize it is a slow and constant process – this life is the never-ending journey. We will never arrive as long as we live.
He doesn’t send us off on the journey alone. The last phrase of verse 1 is the icing on the cake – “for a land that I will show you!” Girls, he’s not sending us away on a journey all by ourselves. He’s going with us! The only way my husband can show me the way on our road trip is to be in the car with me. That’s where our Father God is – in the seat beside us, taking us on this grand and sometimes scary adventure, trying to give us directions to this “land that I will show you” if only we’d listen to Him.
As the emotional heart of the home, many moms get caught up in the feelings of discouragement, sad reminiscence, or finality. While not all moms react so sentimentally, for those that do it can bring on a period of grief and an awareness of loss. Loss of a dear relationship with that child as they move miles away. Loss of an identity as a mom. The loss of one’s own life – time has passed as the child has grown slowly, and now suddenly moms of graduates have a keen awareness of mortality and the shorter amount of time ahead on the timeline in comparison to what has gone before.
First, we have to be aware of the comparison. I am constantly comparing, grading and measuring myself against other people. Comparison is not something we can avoid in life, but it is something we can be aware of and take note of how we act and react. Social Media is our worst enemy in the comparison game. I look at other people and judge myself against what others post. I am sure you have all heard something about someone and thought or said “well it must be nice,” and the comparison, envy, jealousy, and coveting begin popping up again.
A bright pink scrub clad young lady was steadily opening the door that led to the back, calling names and waiting patiently for her elderly patients to rise and make their way toward her. I noticed that many of them had names popular for infants. Names like Eleanor, Everett, Henry, Sylvia. It tickled me as I recalled the King’s Word that says there is nothing new under the sun.
Taped to the top of the Ant farm was a small piece of paper, it read , “Press the lid down firmly all the way to avoid ants escaping.”
Frizzy hair.
The milk in my fridge has an expiration date. The loaf of bread in my pantry has an expiration date. Even the bag of tortilla chips that I must purchase with the necessary jar of salsa has an expiration date. These things are perishable. They’re going to go bad. They’re going to grow moldy or stale or clumpy or…well, you get the picture. And quite frankly, that is not shocking to me…these things will not last forever. They will – and are – perishing. Heavens knows if some of them will not perish by the end of the week.
The Word of God has a way of setting our priorities straight, does it not? So often, I’m caught up in my perishable stuff. I lose sight of the imperishable things of Almighty Eternal Creator God that are a part of what makes me His royal kid. I forget that this earthly home is fading, expiring, crumbling. That it is in reality perishing.
The smithy was crafting a “hold fast,” an L shaped tool meant to hold a wood working project in place, a tool of old when smiths and metallurgic arts were part of the everyday. My mind wandered to a verse with a keyword of the same name,
Priceless 