Sunday, April 18, 2010

Long Pull


It was a long pull this week. And I look back and can't really say I did anything worth being so tired over. Sometimes, fatigue comes schlepping the mule across a prairie, scratching dirt and hoping to plant some soy beans in it, so in the fall you can sell them and buy that shot gun you've been eying at the Mercantile.

Or-

Sometimes, it just life.

Did some traveling this last week. Part of it was going all the way down the Florida, south of Jacksonville, then coming back within 48 hours, back to Phoenix, by way of Philadelphia. Yeah, I know, don't ask. There was nothing to it, except sitting and deciding which of the palm reading devices I would want to buy from Sky Mall magazine.

I don't know about you, but I am getting worse about air travel as I get older. I get anxious. Not that we are going to crash in a fiery ball of screams and body parts, although just writing that gave me a gurgle in my loins. The flying doesn't bother me. No, I don't do well until I get to the gate. I can sit for hours-HOURS at the gate, waiting to board, as long as I'm at the gate. Before I get there, I find myself pacing, cold and clammy hands, checking my boarding pass 78 times to make sure I have it, where's my debit card? Shoe strings? Is my bag full-crap, my tooth brush! It just takes one bump, one small squeal of the tennis shoes on the floor causing me to spin around to double-check something and then finding it was true, to solidify me in the paranoia for another ten years. The cycle starts all over again. It's like right before the kickoff and you are waiting to go in on the first set of downs, or the tip off of the big game, or you're in the chorus or orchestra and your Nana is in the front row. Anxiety, nerves; jeez, what a clown fish.

But, once at the gate, I morph into this playful kid. 'Who wants to go shop for food for the flight?' What about a loaf of bread? A magazine? Look at that guy over there and why is he taking his shirt off? Pull my finger-all those things that make time pass as we wait for our plane.

Arriving in Philly on the first leg of our return trip, we were late, hosting our own controlled crash-landing. Aside from the fact I hadn't been in a near crash like that since I used to fly as a pilot, we got off the plane and had to get two concourses over in 20 minutes to make our connection. 'Rajah', my little Ethiopian driver of the cart that the airline sent to move the seven of us more swiftly, said he could only take six of us and then only half way. He said this directed at me since I was sitting on the arm rest and by some OSHA code, I was endangering the lives of the world. Obviously, I was the one left behind, but since I had nothing to do with us being late and frankly, I think my dead mother could have landed the plane better, I was in a 'sporty' mood. The fear of being late or whatever it is that crawls out of my pancreas and causes me to be anxious prior to getting to the gate was gone. Now, it was game time.

I'm not quite sure what my little friend was thinking when his eyes looked into mine. Love? Compassion? His taxes? Fear that I would reach down his throat and rip out his duodenum with the hand I was pointing at him with and, of course-very politely, telling him to get my team to the gate-all the way to the gate, I'm not quite sure. There was no time. I grabbed my bag and turned for the four mile run (approximately, its always bigger when you're actually doing it). There was no time to check and make sure my boarding pass was secure, or my shoe laces, or the fact that I had to pee from somewhere over Gettysburg but couldn't get out of my seat for fear of being thrown against the overhead bulkhead due to the weather. I just had to get to the gate and hold the plane.

I had no plan as to where I needed to go or how long it was going to be to get there. I quickly knew, however, what I was going to do once I did get there to hold the plane-vomit. Hey, its a bio-hazard. I could buy 20 minutes easy and the run was going to provide the ability. I just needed to not make a wrong turn. I read signs and tried not to run over old women in the process.

Well, long story even longer, I got there. People were still in line and I climbed in behind them. I took up a waiting position behind the gate and waited for the rest of the team, preparing myself to force a stomach purge as soon as someone moved to seal the hatch. While I waited, I took stock in my gear-bag with contents-check, boarding pass stub with seat assignment-check, need to pee-on standby. I was good and in position. And then they showed. My little friend came through for us, although he and I didn't set eyes on each other again, he has made a wonderful memory for me.

I wonder if I made a wonderful memory for him?

Ah, life. It sometimes wears me out.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Bunnies, chocolate, and a good pair of underwear


So, it's Easter, again. I wrote this last year and was thinking about what to write this year and said to myself "Self, this is good to run one more time. Enjoy the day, each other, quiet moments and laughter. Take a look, that big ass stone has been rolled away. Dare to believe it.

What the heck does that mean? If you were to read the paper, it would mean sales at Macy's; half off at Starbucks; cell phones, in all colors, at a discount; and of course, discounted breakfasts for seniors at IHOP. People don't want to really think about Easter, having to admit there is a God and that God had and has a plan individualized for each one of us. We don't want to think that on the Friday before, God took his son, and slaughtered the boy for us, as individuals. Who the heck wants to think of that? Nope, the idea of a chocolate bunny and paisley colors are much nicer.

Until you really look at the picture.

You see, I think love has nothing to do with what we think it has to do with. It has nothing to do with sex, skin tone, the shape in a pair of jeans, ice cream, or a trip to the Bahama's. Love, pure love, is a sacrifice word as my dear friend, John, puts it.

Joni and I just got done waiting out some tests to see if her breast cancer had come back. It had been a long couple of weeks waiting on the tests and doctors. You see, Joni's breast cancer was described by her original doctor as "having teeth." Meaning, if or when it does come back, the outcome won't be good. We've been here before and panic or high anxiety was not present. But there was an undercurrent of tension. I got the folder out containing the response plans to just such a situation. I keep this folder in the dark corner of my brain. I reviewed it and began to hold meetings with my response team, also deep within the gooey mind. As we waited, I planned.

This whole thing turned out to be fine. When I have some time, I will share with you some of the funnier moments; yes, there are some really laughable things-well-maybe just to me but still. But hear this, the one thing that was a constant was that I knew there was a plan. God, by definition, is Love. He can't be anything other than Love. He bought me, Joni, my kids, some of you, with Love. How? Well the payment was huge. He couldn't sacrifice a sheep or a goat like in the old testament. He could but we'd run out of sheep and goats and eventually start cutting up muskrats which doesn't work. So, He paid it once and for all. He laid his boy out on the alter and took his life--for me-oh wait, you too. Don't run from that image-run to it! That isn't embarrassing or degrading. Set that self-flagellating guilt aside. It is a wonderful image. Now, pass it on. I was able to think that this God has a plan for what we were wading in. It was a perfect plan. How Joni getting cancer again would be a perfect plan was beyond me. I just knew the source. I had to trust it. Whatever happened-Daddy had it.

So, Easter-the celebration of sales and chocolate, of half-priced meals and trips. I can look at those things and smile, enjoy them, melt them down and rub them on my chest. My Daddy said to me "Hey, now that you're mine, go and enjoy the world I have surrounded you with. Put some whip cream on that chocolate sundae; look at the sale of underwear at Target; check out the yellow ties and paisley bunnies. I made them-just for you to enjoy." We smile at each other because I know He knows. I remember. Then, like a toddler, I turn and run and play with the things He has laid out, looking back over my shoulder to make sure He is watching.

He is, with a big smile.

Happy Easter everybody!!! Go buy a chocolate bunny and bite its head off. Daddy thinks that is soooo funny.