Flying Home

Posted on August 19, 2013 by Margaret

Every vacation ends eventually, and today was lift-off day for me. When I got to the breakfast table, 3 sad small fry greeted me. “Why are you going back to America today, MeeMee?”

It was a distressing question, because no reason was good enough for them. So I just said, “I’ll be coming back to see you later!”

“By dinner?” Thomas said.

“Not that soon…”

Nicholas, Evelyn, and Thomas are too young to grasp the difficulty of frequent comings and goings across so many time zones, and I felt like I was abandoning them. My only consolation was that out of sight is often out of mind for young children. Maybe they won’t miss me as much as I’ll miss them.

Airport goodbyes were teary, and little Evelyn kissed me on the lips multiple times: “One for Auntie Weez, one for Auntie Britt, for Den-Den (Nelson), Uncle Lars, Uncle Batis (Klaus), Auntie Brooke,” and on and on it went until my face was dripping wet with her sweet kisses.

Nicholas simply said, “I don’t want you to go, MeeMee.”

But as I rolled my suitcases toward the terminal in a British drizzle, I looked back and saw them pull away, crestfallen faces pressed against the car windows, little hands waving. Ouch to my heart.

Once the plane had been boarded and had made its way to the end of a runway with engines rumbling, the captain came on the intercom to say we’d be delayed by 15 minutes. He couldn’t find the flight plan and had to make a new one. Though this was unsettling, at least we weren’t turning back toward the gate.

These days airplanes have TV screens up and down the aisles on which a video is played to make plane-orientation fun. Since most of our flight will be above an ocean, I paid careful attention to the demonstration on life jackets. “Don’t inflate until you’re already outside,” it said, showing a man in a business suit in a flat life vest, standing at the airplane door. He’s smiling broadly as he’s about to jump into the ocean. I pictured myself floating in the icy water watching our wounded plane go under, much like the Titanic did in the movie.

Traveling is stressful; traveling alone is more so. I had to remind myself that even if our plane went down, my “bottom line” was secure. When it was all over, I knew I’d end up with Jesus.

This morning at breakfast, Evelyn asked a funny question: “Do you think your airplane is going to fall out of the sky?”

I laughed and showed her, with my hand, how my plane would take off, cruise, and then land gently on a runway. Today my flight did exactly that, but even if it hadn’t, my ending would have been a good one.

“We are fully confident, and we would rather be away from these earthly bodies, for then we will be at home with the Lord.” (2 Corinthians 5:8)

Making Mistakes

Posted on August 11, 2013 by Margaret

The last time I traveled to England to visit Hans and his family, I worked hard preparing in advance. A month before the trip, I pulled out my biggest suitcase, balanced it on the arms of my bedroom chair, and propped it open. Each time I thought of something I wanted to take, I’d put it in the suitcase.

The night before departure, my big suitcase was full, as was a second one on the floor. But as I went down a mental checklist to be sure I had everything, I couldn’t remember what was in the bags. Had I packed my walking shoes? What about a Sunday outfit? An umbrella? My gifts for the grandchildren?

The only thing to do was unpack. I emptied both suitcases, spreading everything on the bed, and started over. Good thing, because half of what I’d packed was unnecessary, and several important things were missing.

Today I’m writing from England, where I’ve joined Hans and his family of six for 11 lively days of work and play. This time I waited to pack until the night before. It was a good plan and worked well, a lesson learned from my mistake.

Several years ago when I came, I packed poorly for a different reason. It was the middle of October, and at packing time we were having a heat wave in Michigan. Without thinking, I packed according to the hot weather in my neighborhood without a thought to the cool October of north England.

When I got there, my bad packing was evident. I’d forgotten warm socks, long sleeves, and a cozy coat. After that goose-bump visit, I learned from that mistake, too.

Scripture is full of stories about people learning from their mistakes, most of them far more serious than badly packed suitcases. They resulted in ruined careers, destroyed marriages, divisions in families, damaged businesses, curses from God, and even deaths. The sad part is that people didn’t always learn from their mistakes.

That’s true of us, too. Whether we do or don’t learn from them is up to us. But because God want us to gain wisdom from wrongdoing, he often forces the issue by letting us push our way into additional messes. If we don’t learn the wisdom-lesson the first time through, we can be sure he’ll provide another run at it.

Every mistake is a let-down, but it’s also an opportunity.

If we put our lives in God’s hands, he can bring good not just from our positive actions but also from our negative ones. That’s just how he chooses to do things, always thinking of our best good.

As for packing for England this time? I finally got it right.

“Stalwart walks in step with God; his path blazed by God, he’s happy. If he stumbles, he’s not down for long; God has a grip on his hand.” (Psalm 37:23-24 The Message)

When Chaos Comes

Posted on August 4, 2013 by Margaret

A week ago while I answered emails, baby Emerald jabbered happily behind me on the floor, playing with an old Mickey Mouse pop-up toy. All of a sudden there was a noisy crash much like breaking glass, followed by Emerald’s loud wail.

I spun around just in time to see hundreds of marbles scatter all over her and the floor, their glass container lying next to her. Marbles were skittering wall-to-wall and into two adjacent rooms, bouncing off baseboards and heating vents.

Grabbing Emerald to soothe her panic, I figured her reach had grown longer than I’d estimated, and she’d pulled the heavy jar off the shelf where it had been doubling as a bookend.

After putting her safely in her walker, I crawled around on hands and knees, scooping marbles back into the jar, finding some of them 20 feet away. I wanted to get every single one, since 9 month old babies who put everything into their mouths aren’t compatible with marbles.

Even after my diligent search that day, though, I’m still finding strays in distant corners, under bookshelves, behind table legs, and under upholstered chairs. Today I stepped on one (barefooted) in a closet.

An explosion of chaos, whether it’s marbles or just a chaotic life event, usually includes a major clean-up effort. And often the ones mopping up aren’t the ones who made the mess. For example, Emerald wasn’t capable of picking up the marbles (of course), so I needed to do it. That minor mishap, though, was nothing compared to some of the turmoil life brings, along with the complicated aftermath.

But sometimes those of us who think we’re innocent in a messy situation, really aren’t. Did we neglect the preventive measures we should have put in place to make a disaster less likely? Could we have been more sensitive to a need behind a deed, helping someone ahead of time?

It takes two to tango and usually takes more than one to cause a catastrophe. If we uncap our halo polish insisting we’re without fault, we probably aren’t. In the case of our flying marbles, I should have been watching Emerald more closely. Turning a back on a busy baby is never smart.

It’s possible God lets chaos happen in order to get our full attention on a certain problem we haven’t been aware of. It might be his effective way to avoid something worse down the road. In other words, minor chaos now in exchange for absolute bedlam later.

Does that mean we ought to thank God when everything’s falling apart? The problematic but accurate answer is yes.

Today I’m thankful for flying marbles. It let me know Emerald can reach higher, pull harder, and hurt herself more seriously than I thought she could. And now I know. Our marbles have been relocated to the very top shelf.