Curious Traveling--Peanut Butter Sandwiches and Love's Reward

Curious Traveling

Peanut Butter Sandwiches and Love's Reward

     Every once in awhile unexpected things fall into your life like raindrops through sun.  Catching you off guard, you feel like you just walked into your own birthday surprise party and suddenly a symphony of voices yell "surprise!" Later, you replay the moments, trying to uncover how things unfolded, but the mysteries and questions remain.  All you know is that you were blessed and loved.  All you know is that something amazing just happened.  All you know is that life can be extraordinary.

     My own surprising adventure started with a phone call.  My firstborn daughter's voice was on the other end of the phone breathless, emotional, and filled with awe as she said, "Mom, shhhh, listen.  Can you hear him?  Can you hear him, Mom?"  

     I listened as a small cry filled my ears.  It was the urgent cry of a newborn baby boy.  You see, my firstborn child--the child whose own birth had changed my destiny in indescribable and innumerable ways--had just given birth to her firstborn child.  A son.  A man child. And he was crying a sweet soft cry.  She went on to say, "Mom, labor was hard.  So very hard.  But Mom, you need to see him!" 

     Yes, I knew I needed to see this tiny miracle of new life, but we were 1,223 miles apart, according to  Google maps and directions.  I also knew that my husband, the grandfather of this new grandson, wanted to meet this baby just as much as I did, but as an airline pilot he would only be able to travel when he had assigned days off.  However, in perfect synchronicity, he had the next three days off, and after researching the flights he was confident we could fly to see our new grandson and get back in the three day period.  Immediately, we rushed to pack and make our way to the airport.  

      Filled with curiosity, excitement, and enthusiasm I quickly tried to assess what we'd need for our quick trip.  Knowing that we would be traveling most of the day I decided to pack a small lunch.  Having traveled this flight  before I anticipated that we would be stuck trying to subsist on a puny bag of Cheese Nips, and an even punier pack of about six small peanuts, if I didn't plan ahead.  I quickly smeared freshly ground peanut butter and gooey homemade strawberry jam on thick slices of whole wheat bread.  Before making my husband's sandwich, I checked in with him.  As a fan of anything unusually hot and spicy, he normally prefers a hot pepper jelly on his sandwich, but surprisingly, on this particular day, he told me to just use the same sweet strawberry jam I was using on my own sandwich.  Hurriedly, I also threw in two crisp gala apples, salty mixed nuts, and honey pretzels.  I happily imagined sharing the flight, and my homemade  lunch, with my husband as we embarked on our grand adventure, but little did I know what awaited me.

     Dropping me off at the curb of the airport my husband instructed me to go through security and check in at the flight desk while he parked the car.  Our names were already listed on a standby list for the flight we needed to get on, and my hubby would meet me at the gate.  Flying free is a major perk for airline pilots, but it comes with a catch.  There has to be an empty, unsold seat for the person flying standby.  Coming to the airport that morning we had already checked the flight loads and everything looked good for us to fly standby, but upon arriving I discovered things had rapidly changed.  

     "Ma'am, you are not likely to get on this flight," the desk clerk informed me.  "There are now six people ahead of you and this flight is full," she said with a look that told me she wondered just how crazy I was to be there hoping for a free seat.  "I may have one seat that I can sell you if you want to buy it," she added, "but it won't be for sale very much longer."  

     A New Plan

     Disarmed and dismayed, I called my husband to tell him of our dilemma.  He had a quick answer, "Diane, we only have these three days.  Buy the ticket if you can.  I'll ride in the cockpit on the jumpseat.  Oh, and if  you can still buy a ticket, go ahead and buy the upgrade.  If you're going to buy a ticket that will let you get on first and have your choice of seats."  He abruptly hung up after promising to meet me at the gate in a few minutes.

     Remembering the breathless phone call that implored me, "Mom, you need to see him!" I quickly bought the last-minute ticket at the last-minute ticket price. This upgraded ticket was golden. I was nearly first in line to snag one of the the best seats in the plane.  For a few minutes my mind imagined myself enjoying one of those coveted seats in the middle of the plane.  The ones with tons of leg room and extra space on the sides.  Although these seats were merely designed to leave room for emergency exits, on this type of an aircraft they are the seats of first class luxury.  Ah, yes, this was going to be good!

     My momentary thrill, however, was abruptly interrupted, as I watched two very young African American children--a boy and a girl who seemed to be twins--kiss a young, well built man (who appeared to be their father), goodbye and get ready to board the airplane alone.  Apprehension and anguish seemed to fill the air as they looked at one another with doleful eyes.  I saw the flight attendant take them and walk them onto the plane as the presumed daddy walked away with a pained look on his face.  My heart was stirred.  Suddenly I heard a small voice within me whisper, "sit by those children." 
     "Um, what?  That's nuts!  I have a pricey, upgraded ticket that allows me to pick my seat today, thank you very much.  I get to pick today,"  I desperately argued with the voice, but the kids' sad and lonely faces, and the soft whisper within my heart, continued to press upon me as I boarded the plane.   

The Small Voice Wins

     Walking onto the plane my eyes were longingly looking back toward the seats of status when the eyes of the children I'd noticed were suddenly locked with mine.  They were only a couple of rows back from the front door and the aisle seat next to them was empty.  Unexpectedly, even to me, I heard myself ask them, "Is somebody sitting here with you?"

    Shyly they said, "no."  

     "Okay, well, would you mind if I sat with you two?"  I heard myself say.  I wondered if I was dreaming or just exactly what had gotten into me.  I wondered how I would ever be able to explain this to my husband.

     "Sure," they said, almost with enthusiasm.

     Waiting for the plane to take off their story unfolded.  My seat mates were 6 year old twins who had spent nearly a month with their father in Arizona, while missing their mother the entire time.  Now, just a few minutes away from their summer visit, they already missed their father.  They told me how much they wished their parents would get back together.  They were clearly filled with a mix of raw emotions.

     Mulling over my choice of seat and new acquaintance with these conflicted kids, I suddenly noticed a small wooden fish with the word Jesus written on it, dangling from the little boy's neck. When I asked him about it his eyes looked down with great embarrassment as he told me how very, very scared he was to fly.  He went on to say that his mommy's friend had given it to him to wear for help and protection.  My heart stirred again as I explained to my new little friend that I had once been very, very scared to fly too.  I vividly remembered how paralyzing that fear was and how miraculously, I had left that fear behind a few years back, but the memories of torment would be with me always.  I assured my little friend that Jesus and I would help him with this flight and it wouldn't be long before he was with his mommy again. His face softened and his sister joined our pact to make our flight an easy one.  Bonded as if we'd known each other for a long time, we three sat together ready to take off.  But minutes ticked by and still we sat there.  

Complications, Ice Water, and Peanut Butter Sandwiches

     Within minutes the plane was still at the gate and beginning to fill with stifling heat.  What was going on?  Finally the flight crew told us that the cooling system had shut down and that we couldn't leave unless it was fixed.  Window shades were rapidly pulled down and lights were turned off to keep the heat out.  This was Phoenix, Arizona.  In August.  It was scorching outside and the cabin quickly felt scorching as well.  Flight attendants rushed to bring cups of ice water to the passengers, but curiously they passed the children by.  I was told they were going to bring them cups with lids, but long after all the adults had downed their ice water the cups of water with lids never came. As the heat continued to intensify I ventured up to ask for water for the children.   "Oh, they didn't get water?!" the flight attendant exclaimed.  A few minutes later she came with two sippy cups of cold ice water which my little friends gulped down in seconds.  

     After a long delay cold air finally began to fill the cabin and it was announced that we could leave.  The delay meant we were very close to lunch time now--our flight would not land until later in the afternoon.  My plan to pack a lunch seemed like genius now.  We finally took off.

     "I'm hungry!"  my little man friend moaned to me minutes into the flight.  "I'm so hungry!" he repeated.  
     "Have you had anything to eat today," I asked him. 
     "Just a pop tart very early this morning.  I'm starving!" he replied.
     His sister listened with interest that seemed to suggest she too was hungry, but not in quite the same critical state of her twin brother.
     I looked at the bag I had tucked under the seat in front of me, imagining the peanut butter sandwiches I'd packed this morning with a different vision in mind.  My husband was in the cockpit now, locked away for safety, and wouldn't be able to eat the lunch I'd made for him. I remembered how he'd declined his usual pepper jelly for a sweeter strawberry jam. I remembered the two apples.  
     "I have a few things maybe we could eat," I told my little guy.  "Once we get up in the air we will get snacks and drinks and I'll get them out then."  I continued.  
     He slumped down into his seat and patted his empty stomach, waiting with hope for the promised food to appear.    
     As the Cheese Nips and puny peanuts were passed out I got out my sandwiches and apples.  I gave them each half a sandwich and an apple, wondering if they'd actually eat dense whole wheat bread, but they devoured the sandwiches and apples with such speed I quickly discovered that dense, whole wheat bread was not a problem.  Hungry little brown eyes looked up to me for seconds.  I then handed them a bit more sandwich--sharing my part with them--as well as my Cheese Nips and puny peanuts, while eating the nuts and pretzels I'd stashed in my bag for the trip.  Sitting together like old friends, the three of us talked about their life in a dangerous part of Memphis, Tennessee, about their dreams and fears for their family, and about Jesus.  The one whose name was on that little wooden fish.  They seemed to know some abut Him, but I filled in a few blanks for them, assuring them He was real and helped us when we were afraid.  Especially on planes.
     The ride went by quickly and I felt a great satisfaction and wonderment at my participation in this Plan B.  As we deboarded the plane my little man friend--who was aptly named Christian--asked me to come and meet his mother.  I approached her and told her I'd had the pleasure of sitting with her children on the flight.  As I wondered what else to tell her I found myself saying, "They really couldn't wait to see you!!!  They missed you so much!"
     Just as mysteriously as the entire flight had unfolded, her eyes told me that my remarks had addressed her deepest fear--that she would now be less loved.  That she had been forgotten.  She beamed at me and said, "thank you so very much!"
     Reuniting with my husband, I dreaded telling him that my upgraded, pricey ticket had gotten me a front row seat to get ice water and sandwiches for two little kids from a ghetto in Memphis.  He surprised me though when he quickly remarked, "well, I guess that's why I didn't have you put that hot pepper jelly on the sandwich.  It was never meant for me."  As we drove to meet my new grandson my mind continued to ponder the flight.  The surprising plan B.  What I didn't know was that the surprise party was just getting started.  That three days later I was in for an even bigger surprise!

The Surprise Party Unfolds

     Intoxicated with love, and dreary from lack of sleep, my husband and I were at the airport three days later.  Yes, we'd met our new grandson and marveled that a tiny newborn could steal hearts in such a dramatic and final way.  We were high on love and the miracle of new life.

     Checking in at the flight desk I was greeted with unexpected news once again. 

     "Ma'am, I don't think you'll be getting on this fight standby.  It's full."  

     I looked at my husband as he wordlessly went to check on the computer for other options to get home.  

     "Well," he informed me, "I think we can get home if we take four flights and bounce around.  It may take us all day."

     This version of Plan B would normally put this control- freak- recovered- fearful- flyer, into panic mode, but on this particular morning, I said, "okay, whatever."

     I prayed silently and told God that I knew he'd placed me on the right flight, with the right seat, on the trip out there.  I asked him to place me in the right seat on the right flight once again.  I surrendered and sat in silent peace.

     Preparing to spend my day on numerous flights with unwanted snack food, I was jolted to attention when my name was called over the loudspeaker.  I went to the desk and was given a boarding pass.  The clerk informed me, "You're one lucky lady.  It seems some people didn't show up.  You get the last seat on the plane." 

     My husband nodded and prepared to once again ride in the cockpit.  I took my pass and boarded the plane.  I already knew what seat I was going to be given this time.  It was a middle seat between two very large people.  The seat everyone else on the entire plane had passed by.  The worst seat in the plane, but at that moment, on a nonstop flight that would get me home before lunch, it looked like the perfect seat to me.   However, as I looked for the last sure-to-be-middle seat a commotion in the middle of the plane was taking place.  I tried to assimilate exactly what was going on when I saw (in a touch of irony) an African American woman with small children being redirected to find new seats.  It seems she had mistakenly taken the seats in the emergency exit rows--those luxury seats I was supposed to snag on my first trip--and kids aren't allowed to sit in those seats in case of emergency.  The flight attendant motioned to me and asked me the million dollar question, "Would you mind sitting here, please?" as he pointed to a luxury seat in the middle of the plane.

     Shocked and startled, I managed to say casually, "Oh,yeah, sure. That would be fine." Fine?  Yes, more than fine.  It would be amazing.  Seriously, nobody boards last and gets one of those seats.  I mean nobody. But today, I boarded last and I was escorted down the aisle to a premium seat.  "Surprise!"  I heard the small voice within say.  Surprise, indeed.

     I remembered my prayer.  My surrender.  I played it over and over in my mind.  This was remarkable in every way.  I chatted with my seat mate and then opened a book I'd had for over a year and only had begun to read on this trip.  "Heaven Is For Real" by Todd Burpo --the true story of a little boy who had a near death experience and came back to describe Jesus, heaven, and events in his family's life that were accurate, but totally unknown to him before.  This little boy told of astounding and beautiful things of his trip to heaven.  Sitting on the flight I opened to read this from the book:

     "'He would wake up in the morning and tell me: "Hey Dad, Jesus told me to tell you, He really loves the children." 

     "Over dinner at night: "Remember, Jesus really loves the children."

     "Before bed, as I helped him brush his teeth, "Hey, Daddy don't forget," he'd say, garbling the words through a mouthful of toothpaste foam, "Jesus said he really, really loves the children!" 

     Yes, I mused to myself, Jesus loves the children.  I remembered how He once told his followers, " And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is a disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward." (Matthew 10:42) On another occasion He said, "The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." (Matthew 25:40)  I realized that as lovely as that wide seat was, the better flight was the one coming out to meet my grandson.  The one where I got to share sippy cups of cold water,  peanut butter sandwiches, and the love of Jesus with some of the loveliest kids I'd met in quite some time.  I can only add that if I'd known I'd be making lunch for Jesus I may have made something a bit fancier than peanut butter sandwiches, but the big surprise party He threw for me was one of the greatest thrills of my life.  

    

      

     

Love Letters From The Vine-

Weeding Flowers?

          Wet and soggy from monsoon rains, the garden gave way under my feet leaving muddy tracks as I harvested dry, purple bean pods.  Harvesting them was a bit more complicated than I imagined when asked to do the task as they needed to be at just the right stage of development before being delicately snipped from the vine.  As they mature, native dry beans progress from a waxy bright purple color to a mottled, brownish deep plum color with a crispy feel.  To harvest them, I had to carefully inspect each one, feeling for just the right texture and color, before delicately snipping it off the vine and putting it into my small brown paper bag.  My supervisor, Susan, is hoping use these dried beans to make a delicious and bountiful bean soup for the upcoming faculty potluck. Unspoken, but clearly understood, is that these beans are a statement of the investment in growing food for taste, nourishment, and sustainability.  The SSLUG garden is a demonstration garden and these beans are a demonstration of all the reasons this kind of garden exists.  In short, these beans are a big deal.

     After spending more time inspecting and harvesting the beans than I had anticipated, I had nearly filled a lunch size paper bag full of crispy, full pods.  I excitedly went to show them to Susan, expecting her face to show delight at her modest, but viable harvest of beans.  However, as I came upon her bending down in another part of the garden I found her with handfuls of nearly 6 foot blooming sunflower plants and blossoming pink sweet peas pulled out by the roots with a determined and almost fierce look on her face.  I quickly discerned that these bright yellow and pink flowers were headed for the compost/trash pile.  I'm sure my face looked puzzled to see her pulling out these  lovely sunflowers and sweet peas in full bloom.  She quickly answered the question I had yet to ask by emphatically saying, "There are way too many flowers in this section now!  We need this space to plant more food.  Time is short to grow more food.  We need food!"

     "Oh, yes, of course," I mumbled.  I offered to help her take the flowers away as I processed this strategy.  Food?  Yes, food.  Carrots, spinach, wheat--any kind of plant food--is designed to sustain, nourish, and give us life.  Without plants as food we would be hard pressed to stay alive.  We have been given miracles in every plant that serves to feed us with untold micronutrients that contribute to our health and longevity.  Growing these precious miracles in our own backyard to cultivate taste and nutrition, while making a minimal demand on the environment, is the original design of our unfathomable designer, God. Yes, we need food.

     As I took away the flowers and began to help her sow seeds of spinach, kale, and cilantro, I reflected on the parallel in my own life.  What beautiful, but fleeting flowers are decorating my life, but not growing anything that nourishes my soul?  An even greater question--what exactly would nourish and feed my soul?   What do I crave and truly need to be healthier emotionally, physically, and spiritually?  For starters, I know I need to pull out some sunflowers and plant seeds that would bring more genuine communion with both God and those I truly love and care about every single day.  Like most of us living in this culture, I am overfed and undernourished on so many levels.  My life is cluttered with decorative, but fleeting things that never really fill my deepest needs.  Pretty things that don't really provide any real connection are taking up too much space.  My soul is hungry for some real nourishing food.  I need to intentionally make growing food--both literally and figuratively-- more important than growing flowers, as lovely as flowers are.  Yes, sometimes we have to weed the flowers and make room to grow some food.