Well... not quite. We arrived to find the ticket counter dark and empty. Something didn't seem right. Finally, a woman emerged from the back and told me that we were too late to check my baggage. I learned that I had two options-- either pay $150 for a new, later flight that may or may not have a seat for me... or get on my original 6:2o flight suitcase-less. And... I had to make the choice fast because the gate for the flight was closing in 4 mins! Alarmed, I quickly made the decision to bolt to my flight and leave my suitcase with my sister in Arkansas. I grabbed a pair of jeans and a skirt out of my suitcase and I ran to security. I don't even remember if I said good-bye to my sister.
I knew I was in trouble when I tried to clear security with my backpack still on my back. The lady looked at me and politely said, "I'm sorry, miss, but your backpack must go through the scanner OFF your back." Oh my word... I apologized and gave her an embarrassed smile. Then, to add to my embarrassment, I heard my name being shouted across the airport intercom-- "Paging Bethany Reamer, paging Bethany Reamer. Your gate is about to close." I rushed to the gate to find a mildly irritated woman waiting to take my boarding pass. Again, I mumbled an apology, tried to smile, and rushed on to the plane.
Once I got on the plane (I was last, by the way!) and found my seat, I tried to catch my breath and settle my thoughts. But I couldn't. I kept remembering shirts and shoes and necklaces and earrings in that suitcase that I needed. And I remembered my kind sister left standing there with my suitcase. Did I even hug her good-bye and tell her that I love her? I couldn't remember! I hated that thought most of all.
In the midst of all of my crazy thoughts, I felt a small cry coming up from my heart--"Jesus, I need You! Be near, O God." And then comes the faint whispers of that unexplainable peace.... He was there, right with me. I could finally begin to settle down.
And then I began to see the irony of the whole thing. For most of my life, I've veered pretty close to perfectionism... tending at times to be performance driven, calculated, and liking to be right. Well, I had to smile. Because... perfectionists generally aren't late for their flights. Perfectionists certainly don't try to walk through security with their backpack still on their back. Perfectionists don't run through airports while their name is blaring across the intercom. And perfectionists don't forget to say good-bye to their sister. But I did all of those things...
Ha... so much for perfectionism! Sitting in that airplane early this morning, I breathed a big sigh of relief when I remembered Jesus and His grace. With grace, there's room to make mistakes. With grace, I can smile and humbly thank the airline employee who still let me on the flight when she didn't have to. I can laugh at myself as I sheepishly remove the backpack from my back in the security line. I can call my sister from the next airport and tell her how much I love her. With grace, I can rest easy. I do not understand it, but I am loved. Sometimes, I wonder if it's in my most knuckle-headed moments that I can most clearly see the smile of God. I think so.
I continue to learn (the hard way, sometimes!) that the pressure's off. I continue to be blindsided at times by the beauty of God's grace, and I continue to be baffled by the fact that it's now mine, even though I so do not deserve it.
Jesus, please continue to blindside your people with Your grace... even if it comes in the form of almost-missed flights, left behind luggage, and other small catastrophes. Continue to teach us how to laugh at our own goofiness and to see Your smile through it all.
i love this.
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