The first flight was oversold. Ok, we'll just wait a couple hours until the next one. Again oversold. Four more hours until our next chance. We pulled out the games, the coloring books, went on endless walks up and down the terminal. As the third flight of the day came and left my heart sank. This meant we only had one more chance before we have to call it a day and come back to try it all again tomorrow.
Thankfully the boys were being pretty good... Until my 2 year old decided to disappear for 20 seconds. Just long enough to pull the emergency defibrillator box. Sirens blaring, we all felt a bit of panic. Good news is that he'll never do that again. The police officer stood with enough authority to frighten even my 5 year old into a state of good behavior for a little while.
My next move was to call hubby back home. He looked up the flight loads (my personal travel agent), and said our final chance didn't look good. This is when I fell apart. "Hunny can you come rescue me, just fly out here and we'll drive home?" Ok that's not so rational, but I'm getting weary. Our only chance was if 5 passengers didn't show up. The flight was oversold by 2 paying passengers, and then we were numbers 1, 2, and 3 on the standby list.
One hour until our final flight for the day. I'm running out of coloring pages, books to read, and snacks. I'm growing tired and a little short with the boys as they start walking across the chairs and wrestling on the floor. My hope is fading and I feel a lump of worry in my throat. I worry about the impending threat of a 2 year old melt down, after all he has been awake since 3:30am, it's now 3 hours past nap time. Stress rises.
It's day 1 of trying to get home, but the thought of not making it made it feel like we'd been there a week.
Hubby and I discussed options. If only one seat becomes available, do we send our 5 &1/2 year old as an "unaccompanied minor". This would mean I stay in California and allow my baby to fly without me while Daddy anxiously waits at the gate back home to greet him. If we can't all get out today, this would at least increase our chances of getting home the next day. Two standby seats are more likely to come by than 3. Deep breath, OK, that's the plan. I can do this, he can do this.... If push comes to shove...I can do this.
Hubby looks up tomorrow's flights, they look just as bad as today's. However, the last flight of the day has 12 open seats. There is hope!! If need be, I can come back tomorrow morning at 6am to hold my standby position and wait in joyful anticipation. Just knowing I'll make it home renews my strength. My perspective changes. I don't mind hanging out all day if I know it will be worth it. My struggle today is that I don't know anything for sure.
I'm weary, the boys are weary. Yet tomorrow, day 2, looks hopeful. If we don't make it out today, we are going to be OK. Though still in the midst of a long 10 hour day at the airport, I breathe a sigh of relief. This adventure reminded me how I want to live my life. I want to live each day as if it were a "day 2" kind of day. A day that has it's share of trials and challenges sure, but has hope. Living in a way that has renewed strength because I know that eventually I will make it home.
There is rest for the weary. There is certainty in the things hoped for.
Thank you Lord that I get to live this life in faith and hope. "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we can not see" - Hebrews 11:1 (NIV)
I can run the race of life (or even get through a day at the airport) with confidence because I know that I'll eventually get to go home. This I know because that plane is never full.
By the way... against all odds we did make it out on that last flight of the day :)
I just wish I would have walked through it with a "day 2 perspective".
No comments:
Post a Comment