The View from My Office

Normally, my office window looks out on the woods that border our back yard.  I enjoy watching the robins look for food and the blue jays chase each other through the tree branches.  As autumn comes, I can see the changes in the leaves as the woods take on a golden glow.  Now that the day lengths are shorter, I am sometimes already working when the sun rises over the treetops.   It is a peaceful view, and I am grateful for it.

Through the years, however, the view out my “office” window has varied.  Recently it was the view of an airplane wing atop a cushion of clouds on a blue sky since my desk was the tray of the seat in front of me.  

Later that evening, it became the airport as we waited for connections to Uruguay.  Hundreds of people passed by on their way to their gates to fly to places around the world.  Charlie and I sat together working out our presentation for the conference.  After a while, it was time to give up our little table in the "Marketplace" and move to the gate.  There our "office" became a place of rejoicing when Alejandra and Sergio Herrera, our missionaries in Mexico, arrived.  It had been years since I had seen them.

The next day my view changed to that of blue skies, a sandy beach, and a gray-blue bay as I sat at my “desk” in the meeting room of a conference center outside of Montevideo, Uruguay.  What a blessing it was to be surrounded by IPM’s missionaries from all over Latin America as we met for a regional conference.  Some of them we had already met.  Others we were meeting for the first time.  When their voices lifted together in song, it gave me a little glimpse of what a joy heaven will be.

At the end of the conference it changed again. One day it was a panorama of pastoral quietness as we sat in a car for hours driving from Montevideo to the north of Uruguay.  Spring flowers in varying hues of yellow, blue, purple, and peach bordered the roads.  Mile after mile we saw sheep grazing in vast expanses of pastureland.  Then we passed ranches and dairy farms where cattle grazed.  It could have been Wisconsin or Pennsylvania.

Later that week it was the view out a window of a house in a neighborhood of Mercedes, Argentina.  Houses border a dirt road.  Inside the gate, green grass grew and extended outside the gate too.  Dogs barked as they wandered up and down the street.  Inside the living room of this small house more than twenty people gathered to learn about Hermeneutics.  Charlie taught through a translator, a missionary who has been here in Argentina for many years.

Tomorrow it will change again.  Yet in every case, I am grateful.  I have a laptop computer that I can take with me so that I can work from anywhere.  God has given me eyes to see the beauty around me wherever we go in the world, and He has given us opportunities to serve Him in many different places.  What a blessing to have an "office" that changes multiple times throughout the year.  I am blessed.

 

Two Perspectives on Travel

After the sunset faded from the sky and darkness descended, I sat in the passenger seat wondering how much longer it would be before we stopped for the night.  Ten hours had passed since we started driving that morning, and it was still several hours before bedtime.  We talked, listened to the radio and I dozed a little.  I was bored.  There was not much to do except watch the cars pass us on the highway as mile after mile of darkness passed.  

It was my first experience of realizing that Charlie’s goal is to get to our destination.  He does not really enjoy himself until we get there.  Then he is ready to enter full vacation mode, or whatever else is the purpose of the trip.  His motto for travel is “Conquer the trip!”  It is not that he does not appreciate seeing the flowers as we fly by them on the highway.  He just does not want to stop long enough to smell them.

“Enjoy the journey!” is my motto.  Every day is an adventure, whether at home, on the road, or in another country.  So I enjoy making plans to stop along the way and see the sights that we would otherwise pass.  So yes, let’s stop and take pictures of scenic vistas, smell the honeysuckle, and run across the sand to dip my feet in the ocean.  I enjoy seeing what the day will hold, especially when the routine of being at home is gone.  

Over the years, Charlie has made many concessions to my desire to stop and enjoy the scenery, stretch my legs, or stop at historic places.  I am more willing to go the distance of putting in 15-hour days in order to please him.

Air travel is different.  Once we buy our tickets, we have very little control over what happens.  However, our perspectives still emerge.

Long layovers in airports?  I use the time to watch the parade of people as they cross paths briefly in a location where they do not plan to stay.  I wonder who they are and where they are headed.  I write or read books and enjoy the layover.  Sometimes I strike up a conversation with strangers, especially if they have children or if they look like they would appreciate a chat.  Charlie uses the time well too, but it is grueling for him.  He just wants to get there.

Delayed planes and missed connections?  For me, it’s part of the adventure.  After all, we never would have stayed overnight in an expensive hotel in Japan if there had not been a problem on our return from India. While Charlie appreciated that particular perk, he generally sees these as disruptions to the goal of arriving at our destination on time.  “Conquer the trip!” is still his motto.

It is, perhaps, one of the reasons God put us together.  I need more of his goal-oriented punctuality.  He needs more of my enjoyment of life.  Together we get a little bit of both perspectives.

Travel Day Log

5:30 a.m. (Central Time)  Piano music drifts through the room as Charlie’s cell phone alarm sounds.  He reaches out and turns it off.  Two minutes later, the raucous digital tune from my cell phone  forces me out of bed, and we jump into the day.

Except for the things we needed during the night or this morning, everything is packed.  We perform our morning ablutions and dress quickly.  Pajamas, cell phones, (AKA alarm clocks), toiletries and other last minute items join their travel mates in our carry-ons. 

6:05 a.m.  I punch the address for the Blue Sky Parking Lot into the Tom-Tom, and we head out through the quiet tree-lined streets of Wheaton toward one of the busiest airports in the world.

6:40 a.m.  We pull into the Blue Sky Parking Lot where the Hispanic attendant efficiently checked our car for pre-existing dents and asked if we wanted a car wash.  We declined, even though it needed it.  He graciously carried our bags to their shuttle and asked for our departing airline information.

6:50 a.m.  We leave the parking lot and head through busy traffic to the departing gates.  The first stop is for the United passengers.  It takes longer for us to get to our terminal from the previous one than it did to get to the airport in the first place.

7:00 a.m.  We join the line of departing passengers.  We get our boarding passes and check our bags.  No gate has been assigned to us yet, though the airline tells us it is still listed as “on time”.

7:20 a.m.  The security line stretches longer than the cords that have been erected.  Only two people are checking identification, so this could take a while.  Everyone expects the line and the wait, so people are pleasant as we slowly snake our way through the cords to the front.

7:45 a.m.  The blue-uniformed TSA agent checks our identification and asks us how long we have been standing in line.  He grabs a chair to sit for the next while and passes us through.  We remove our shoes, empty our pockets, pull out the liquids, and remove our computers from their cases.  Our bags join our shoes on the conveyer belt to be screened, and we stand in line for a body scan.  (I hate those. Talk about an invasion of privacy!)  After the scan, Charlie is pulled aside because his shirt had multi-layer pockets and they weren’t sure if he was hiding something. (After all, he might have been hiding a prayer card!  That’s what he usually carries in his pockets.)

8:00 a.m.  We put our shoes back on and check the list of departing flights.  Still no gate assignment.  Oh look!  A Dunkin’ Donuts!  That’s probably the last one we’ll see in a while, so we joined the line there.  With coffee, juice, and pastries in hand, we find a table.  No free wi-fi here, so we’ll have to wait until some other time to check email.

8:20 a.m.  We receive information that our flight is delayed an hour.  Joan calls her parents to let them know what is going on and sends texts to friends.  One of her friends calls her and they talk for a few minutes.  Finally, we have a gate.  We walk around for a while to see what our terminal has to offer:  two food courts, several small stores, and many flights heading all over the world, including Heathrow, Beijing, Narita, Las Vegas, Shanghai, and Boston.  At our gate, s an earlier plane is headed to San Diego, so we found another place to sit and wait.

9:30 a.m.  I dig out my computer and start the log for our travel day.  Our flight was supposed to leave at 9:25.  Now it’s scheduled for 10:45.

10:00 a.m.  Our flight has been delayed again to 11:20.  I think I have plenty of time to do some reading.  I close down the blog and open “Online Bible” and begin to read.  Did you know that the story of the rich man asking Jesus what he needed to be saved is preceded in all three accounts by Jesus blessing the children?  It made me stop to think about those two stories together.  First, what would a child do if he were presented by the same request from Jesus – give away all you have and come and follow me.  What would I have done when I was a child?  Second, if we had the dependence of a child on our Heavenly Father, would a request like that from Jesus sound scary or freeing?

10:55 a.m.  Our flight begins to board.  More standing in line and waiting our turn to board.

11:30 a.m.The plane finally pulls away from the gate to sit on the tarmac for a while.  A few minutes later, we join the line of planes waiting to take off, and soon we’re in the air.

12:00 noon:  The pilot announces that we are flying at 37,000 feet, and that we’ll fly over Georgia on our way down to Florida.  If I wave really hard, will my sister in Atlanta see me?  We read, doze and talk the rest of the way.

3:25 p.m. (Eastern time)  As we fly over the everglades, a lightning strike lights up the sky in the distance.  Dark clouds hover in front of us, and we land in Miami in a full-blown rain storm.  After an agent is finally located, the skyway is attached and the door opens.  Once again we stand in line, waiting for our turn to disembark.  We are seated four rows from the back of a full 757 aircraft, so it will be a while before we can get off.  Fortunately, we have lots of time here.

4:00 p.m.  We walk the airport looking for free wi-fi, but this airport is just as stingy with wi-fi as O’Hare was.  We remembered that in Lima we used wi-fi at Starbucks, so we look for the nearest Starbucks cafe.  It’s located at gate six, probably half a mile from where we are; but we have nothing but time right now and we need a good walk.

4:30 p.m.  Our stomachs are growling.  It’s been hours since we’ve had anything to eat.  Wendy’s chili sounds good right now, so we stop.  

6:45 p.m.  The airplane is scheduled to take off at 7:10.  Since the boarding has only just begun, it will not likely be on time.

7:30 p.m.  We’re in the air again, on our way to Guatemala.

7:55 p.m. (Mountain time)  After a non-eventful two hour flight, we land in Guatemala.  We proceed to immigration and choose one of the three lines for foreigners.  We chose the wrong line.  We started in the middle of a long line.  When it was apparent how slowly our line was moving, people behind us began moving to other lines.  Another plan debarked and more people joined our line.  Soon they too realized how slowly our line was moving compared to others, so they too left our line for others.  We were the last ones in our line and certainly the last ones on our plane to leave immigration.

9:15 p.m.  The luggage carousel stopped a long time ago, and the baggage handlers are wondering what to do about our bags when we arrive.  We gather our bags and head for customs.  Customs waves us through and we head outside to a cold, rainy evening in Guatemala.  At first we don’t see the blue sign for IPM in the midst of all the white signs for other people, but we eventually locate our people.  They go get the car while we wave off the vendors who gather around us.  Eventually an SUV shows up and we load our baggage.

10:20 p.m.  We arrive at the retreat center where the conference is being held and greet some of the people who are there.  Most of them have already retired to their rooms for the night.

10:30 p.m.  We’re shown to a dining room with plates piled high with food.  Charlie and I decide then that we’ll need to share a plate of food in the future, or we’ll both go home ten pounds heavier than when we arrived.  I eat some of it, but I know that I won’t sleep well if I eat it all.

11:30 p.m.  We crawl into bed after a very long day, thank God for His provision and safety along the way, and promptly fall asleep.

Waiting to Return

“I wait for the LORD, my soul doth wait, and in his word do I hope.  My soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning: I say, more than they that watch for the morning.”  Psalm 130:5-6

Spanish swirls around me as I wait for the Miami-bound plane.  I could easily be in a Latin American country, but I’m not there yet.  Instead I’m in the nether land of airport-secure zones while we wait for our delayed plane.  CNN broadcasts its headlines into the room, but the only contact with the real world outside is through the tinted glass looking out on the skyline of New York City.

We all wait.  Some sleep.  Some read.  Some talk.  Some text.  Some work on their computers.  One man listens to music, his fingers keeping time against his temples.  A couple of twenty-something parents try to keep their twin toddlers happy.  Fortunately the little boy just dozed off a few minutes ago, but the girl, pink sneakers kicking the air, desperately wants to be released from her stroller cage.  An orange lollipop pacifies her.
We all wait.  For most the waiting is passive.  We have one assignment.  Get on the plane when it arrives.  There is nothing we can do to make the plane get here sooner.  There is nothing we can do to make our trip more pleasant.  All the preparation work was done before we got here, and we sit here waiting.

It is so unlike the waiting we are called to do when we wait upon the Lord.  That is an active, expectant waiting.  Like the psalmist’s watchman, I have worked the night shift when the first rays of dawn across the sky were happy reminders that my waiting for home and bed were almost over.  I was actively doing my job while I waited, but the streaks of morning light were much more exciting to me than the arrival of a delayed plane.

When it comes to waiting for the Lord and for His return, there is no comparison.  Every day I know His return draws nearer.  Even though I don’t know when it will be, I am sure that every day brings me one day closer to seeing Him, and I happily wait, almost as though on tiptoe.