Stranded far from home, our scheduled day of departure is slapped with severe weather that grounds all flights. Hours of airport hanging, negotiating with the ticket agent, net us only a rebooked flight tomorrow. Day One in the books.
Day Two we now know how this state spurs population growth. They lure you with fried catfish, hushpuppies and new-wave frozen yogurt stores sporting more spigoted, serve-yourself choices than a Midwestern sow offers her starving piglets. The soft-spoken locals conspire with the airlines to hold you hostage until you send home for your things and settle down there.
A power outage at a distant airport that feeds us planes means our flight is scratched. Back to the rental car and hotel counters. Can you say, "Day Two?"
Day Three dawns under a tornado watch as we rock 'n' roll up into the wild, blue bumpy. At last, 31,000 feet, and we're aloft on our change-planes-twice, return flight. So far, lift-offs and landings feel like we've been taking fire from enemy MIGs, and suddenly "air traffic controller" is an oxymoron.
Despite the unfriendly skies, God wraps us with a palpable peace as we remember Jesus saying, "Let not your heart be troubled." Paul writes, "Don't be anxious about anything," adding, "I have learned to be content in whatever state I find myself." (Even the states in Tornado Alley?)
Just think of all the lightning bolts, wind shears and overshot runways we may have missed. And, oh yes, that yogurt store.
