Once again I’m in the airport waiting for a delayed flight– a 7 hour delay. It will, in fact, be 9 hours from the time my brother dropped us off at the airport until we take off this afternoon. I’ve spent more time in airports in the last ten days than in the last ten years and every flight has been delayed or missed. But today I’m fine, happy, peaceful.
Mary was so anxious this morning as we stood in the long line to check in and then the next line for security, “I’m tired! I’m thirsty! We’re going to miss our flight!” I explained over and over that there would be plenty of time today for rest and drinks but she couldn’t be consoled.
What does seven hours mean to her? What does “all in good time” mean to me? God has often reassured me, “Things will work out. It’s going to be fine.” And still, I fret and worry.
I’m not worried today. The past week has revealed so many miracles to me that I can’t help but sit back and think, “This is a good delay; we’ll find something beautiful in it.”
And I did get a little miracle– as we were walking to our gate, searching for a drink and preparing to camp out for the day, my dad and my sister’s family passed us on the concourse on their way to their flight back to San Diego. We kissed and hugged and explained our delay; and my dad motioned to the Delta Crown Room which we were standing directly in front of.
So we’re settled on plush chairs with free snacks and drinks and internet access (hurray!). Gabe is reading, Mary is coloring, and I of course, am writing. Mama is right, I can’t neglect my blog for long, and I can’t see my life clearly without writing about it. I plan to write a book about all my recent experiences– it doesn’t ever need to see a publisher, but I need to record it all.
The last few days have been sweet and a bit silly. My dad, my brother and his kids, my sister’s family and Mary, Gabe and I have been under the same roof with my other brother’s family next door. We haven’t been in such close proximity since we were kids. We’re all so tired and weepy that we make mistakes left and right. I very calmly took off my socks the other day, walked into the bathroom, tossed them into the toilet and flushed (I caught them), my sister took her daughter birthday shopping at the mall and realized hours into the shopping trip that she was wearing slippers, the kids have been eating ridiculous amounts of cookies and ice cream because we forget to prepare meals. We penned nearly a hundred thank-you cards yesterday and found ourselves misspelling our own last name.
It’s so comforting to be close to family when you are mourning. We’re very gentle and enjoying the sweetness of knowing just how much we mean to each other. My brother Mike, who is just a year older than me, lives in my parent’s basement. He’s been struggling for many years (he said it’s OK to tell you that) and it’s wonderful to see the way he’s come back to himself and grown up and become a man that I not only love, but deeply admire.
My next story deserves a blog post of it’s own. But life moves too quickly to delay any good thing.
My brother Daniel came to the viewing— 24 years after he left home. I was a bit of a weepy mess that night but I couldn’t believe how perfectly ORDINARY it felt to see him. He’s grown up. He’s a man, and a sweet humble man at that. He’s lived all over the world and is now settled in Connecticut. Mike and I went to breakfast with him on Saturday morning and we talked and laughed over our veggie omelettes and decided to be a family again.
he looks fantastic– doesn’t he?
Life is beautiful.