Rush, rush, rush.
Then wait.
Keep waiting.
Welcome to a day in traveling to the airport. As I write this, I’m sitting in the Ontario International Airport, waiting to board my flight to Phoenix. From there, I have to catch my connecting flight to Minneapolis. Oh, Minnesota. It has been four months since I’ve been there. Four months since I’ve seen anyone in my family. I can hardly express the depth of my excitement in words.
But this is the part where I wait. I look outside, and the rain is pouring down. Yes, pouring. Thank you, SoCal. You always pick the best days for it to rain. The flight coming into my gate is delayed, thus my flight is delayed. I always have a fear of missing my connecting flight, but I’m going to try not to worry about that too much right now.
Strangers surround me. This is the first time in months that this has been the case. There is something almost refreshing about this. I can simply hide away amongst the faces.
My ears are being treated to the sounds of Brothers at Sea and Bon Iver. I am relaxed in a wonderful leather armchair, courtesy of Southwest. But before I let myself get caught-up in my current situation, I would like to share about how I reached this point today.
My morning started at 6:30 a.m. today. My days haven’t started this early since the beginning of the semester. However, this morning I didn’t really mind getting up. I potentially wasn’t going to be able to say goodbye to a friend of mine, but he invited me to eat breakfast with him before the start of his 17-hour workday—his second in a row. I happily obliged.
Thus, after a mere three hours of sleep I got up and took a shower. I arrived in the lobby three minutes before our scheduled meeting time. A minute later, I got a text from him saying he had just gotten up and would need a couple minutes. I smiled, knowing that feeling, and told him to take his time.
A short time later he made his appearance, and we headed to the caf for breakfast. We talked about the long day that he had ahead of him and the traveling that I would face. Given that it was just after 8 a.m. on a Friday, only a handful of people were sprinkled throughout the caf. We picked a table by the windows—my personal favorite.
I grabbed what would be my last breakfast in the caf for six weeks. Once we both sat back down, he prayed, and we began to eat. We made some small talk, and then I warned him that I was going to ask him a cliché question. “What has God taught you this semester?” I inquired. He informed me that, surprisingly, he had never been asked that question before.
He sat back in his chair. This question was not one to be answered hastily. He closed his eyes for a few moments, contemplation overtaking his expression. It wasn’t too long, however, before he leaned in toward the table and began to speak. He briefly explained to me situations he’d faced and choices he’d made in response to God’s leading. Continuing, he told me how through those times the Lord had reminded him of His love and that He ultimately has a plan for every detail of his life. Those words resounded with me. I couldn’t help but be filled with joy as I was reminded of the faithfulness of God.
Then it was my turn to answer the question. I hardly knew where to begin. God has done so much in my life and my heart that it still amazes me. I gave the abridged version of my semester, but I could have gone on so much longer. God is so good.
We left the caf, said goodbye, and our paths diverged. I walked back to my dorm with a smile on my face. That had been a great way to start off my day—sharing about God’s goodness. How wonderful it is to have friends to discuss that with.
And my friend, if you ever read this, I would like to thank you. Thank you for spending that time with me and sharing a little bit of your heart. Thank you for always being willing to listen. Thank you for reminding me of what a great God we serve.
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