Emergency on Board

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Although I haven’t flown in planes too much, I’ve done enough to be at ease during take-off and landing, and nothing unusual has ever occurred.

Until today, that is.

Flying to Florida to spend time with Linnea and her active family of 5, I settled into an aisle seat bound for Orlando. About an hour before our destination, as beverages were being served, flight attendants began scurrying up and down the aisle with uncharacteristic urgency. Then suddenly the drinks were aborted, and one of them made a plea on the P.A. “Is there a doctor on board? Or a nurse? Maybe an EMT?”

We were in the middle of a medical emergency.

Toward the back of the plane a young woman had been reading when without warning she’d slumped into unconsciousness. Her seatmate, a stranger, alerted flight attendants, and she received quick attention. Staff rushed to the front of the plane and opened the overhead compartment closest to the cockpit, exposing a veritable hospital: an oxygen tank, stethoscope, blood pressure cuff, defibrillator, first aid kit, and more.

Grabbing all she could hold, an attendant raced back to the patient as a nurse-passenger cleared out the adjoining seats to make a bed on which the woman could lie down. Passengers became quiet except for one observer who said, “She turned an awful shade of green.”

None of us knows what’s right around the corner. When this woman dressed for her travel day, she had no idea she’d end up sprawled across 3 airline seats strapped into an oxygen mask. When we leave home each day, none of us knows if we’ll return.

Scripture says God watches over our comings and goings. I think that means from home to work to shopping to school to anyplace else. I also think it means coming and going on an eternal scale: we go from earth and come to paradise. We come to death but go through to new life.

It might also mean coming and going in and out of relationships, emotions, circumstances. In all cases, God is watching over us, and not just watching but guiding and guarding, too.

And how about the airline patient? Did he watch her sink into unconsciousness and do nothing about it?

He did watch her, yes, and he sent a nurse, made sure the proper equipment was on board, and had paramedics waiting at the open end of the jet-way when we landed. I watched 5 of them kneel in front of her ministering medically and encouraging emotionally. As the rest of us paraded past, headed for baggage claim, she was hedged in by protective care: a team of paramedics, plus God.

And just before we exited the plane, the flight attendant made one more announcement: “Sorry about the beverages, but thanks for understanding. We hope you fly with us again soon.”

“The Lord himself watches over you! The Lord keeps watch over you as you come and go, both now and forever.” (Psalm 121:5,8)

 

 

Hand-crafted

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These are the developing hands of a 14 weeks-along baby, Birgitta’s little him-or-her. During the ultrasound picture-taking session, this tiny child whose hands had been against his/her cheeks for the first photos suddenly reached toward the camera, fingers splayed, as if to say, “Mama! Look what I have!”

Birgitta said that when these miniature hands flashed on the screen she began giggling so hard the baby joined in on the fun with an enthusiastic wiggle-dance. I like to think it was God’s uncontainable joy bubbling within Birgitta and flooding into her little one.

Being allowed to take a peek at what the Creator is doing inside my daughter’s womb is to get a glimpse of the wonder that God is. It was his idea to design hands as he did, making them useful tools we usually take for granted.

Hands are pretty remarkable. They’re flexible but can be stiffened to hold up something heavy. They can swing a hammer with force or caress a loved one with gentleness. Hands can shake each other in greeting or lend-a-hand as needed. They can cheer someone by clapping approval or reach toward heaven in prayer.

When God gave us hands, he also provided a hand-book. Scripture cautions us to be careful with our hands, to use them as he instructs. Jesus used his hands to touch the untouchable, the diseased, the contaminated. And he allowed his hands to be nailed to a cross for our benefit. One day we’ll get to see evidence of that when he shows us his hands and the scars he wears.

But what are regular people supposed to do with their hands? Birgitta’s child has hands that can’t do much of anything right now, though they’ve already gifted a young mama with joy. One day, though, they may play the piano or paint a picture. Maybe they’ll mold clay or repair computers, perform surgery, write books. We don’t know, but the Lord does, so he’ll help Birgitta coax her little one in the right direction.

But what about the rest of us? In response to God’s profound love, we ought to follow his hand-book to a T. It says we should “do good… be rich in good deeds… generous and willing to share.” (1 Timothy 6:18) He gave us hands to facilitate accomplishing this, and even told us how to handle those deeds: “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might.” (Ecclesiastes 9:10)

In October our family will get to touch the dimpled, feather-soft hands of a new baby. We may just all start giggling in a fresh outburst of joy at what God has done.

“Can a mother… feel no love for the child she has borne? But even if that were possible, I would not forget you! See, I have written your name on the palms of my hands.” (Isaiah 49:15-16)

A Closer Look

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My vanity dresser was beautiful once, a piece of furniture handmade of Australian satinwood in the early 1900’s. It matches the rest of the bedroom set with its ornate, curvy lines, inlaid flowers, and multi-hued veneer, and none of it really belongs to us. We’re storing it for a friend, and that “temporary” arrangement has lasted 43 years. (See “Connecting the Dots,” 8/5/09.)

A year ago, my friend Julie (the official owner of the bedroom set) visited me from her home in Germany. She was eager to re-visit her furniture and see how it was doing after its move from Illinois to Michigan 3 years ago. As she walked into the bedroom she said, “Oh Margaret, everything still looks great!”

Then she took a closer look.

The protective glass atop the vanity was long gone, cracked years ago when I forgot to unplug my electric roller set and it overheated. After that the wood top was daily at risk, suffering scratches, nicks, and water damage as time went by. “But,” I told Julie, “maybe those marks aren’t all bad.”

Back in the 1970’s, fancy furniture stores sold tables and dressers advertised as “distressed.” Before finishing, the manufacturer would use chains, nails, and chisels to mark unblemished wood until it was dented, gouged, and scraped, a look meant to resemble a well-used antique. “Heavily distressed” pieces were the priciest.

The defects on my vanity, despite not being intentional, remind me of my own imperfections, nicks, and scrapes, mostly caused through my own foolishness. Furniture can be refinished, bringing it back to perfection, but marks on a life don’t get fixed that easily.

The truth, though, is that every time I’ve put myself in harm’s way and come out the other side “nicked” (sometimes even “heavily distressed”), I’ve come out smarter. The lessons I’ve learned through self-inflicted pain have stuck, and the marks they’ve left have, I hope, morphed into character improvements. And the whole arrangement is ok with God, because he’s hoping we’ll gain wisdom as we suffer through our distresses.

I love the vanity top just the way it is, a bit of family history that’s uniquely ours (even though the vanity isn’t). And there’s one “blotch” on the wood that’s particularly interesting, also somewhat of a mystery. It’s the outline of a comb, which must have been resting in a puddle of caustic liquid in order for it to leave such a mark. When Julie saw it, she ran her hand over the imprint and slowly said, “Wow! What happened here?”

Not having an answer, all I could say was, “Seven kids,” though I felt guilty at that moment for ever having allowed them into our bedroom. I thought Julie might call for a moving van right then, but she just laughed it off like the good friend she is.

And after all our years together, I appreciate that she doesn’t look too closely at me.

“Love prospers when a fault is forgiven, but dwelling on it separates close friends.” (Proverbs 17:9)