My morning's confidence should've been a giveaway. But, no. I confidently assured my fellow travelers, who had to go through airline security with a baby, that I’d wait on the other side of security for them.
After all, I have TSA PreCheck. I didn’t have to shed my shoes or jacket. The TSA people in my line always brought me chocolate mints and an arm flourish as I walked through. (OK, I might have exaggerated that part.)
But that morning, I cleared the metal detector with no problem, only to watch my carry-on bags slide to the other side of a glass wall.
How was I supposed to get them over there?
Some Good Sense...
I did have the good sense not to reach over the barrier or I might be writing this from a cell.
Before long, I realized that the other side of the glass wall was reserved for suspect bags.
Like mine?
They were flagging quite a few, so I stood by patiently–which of course I always do (stand patiently, I mean)–until they got to my bag.
The attendant peeled back the zippered cover and went digging. She snagged my shaker bottle with the plastic bag of powder stuffed inside.
“That’s just protein powder,” I said. She didn’t even look at me. Instead, she scurried to another counter, dipped a small sample out of the bag, and dripped something onto the powder from a bottle that looked like it held eye drops.
“It’s protein powder,” I said. In case they were confused.
Nope. Not confused. My powder tested positive for something–they didn’t know what when I asked–and so my suitcase innards, my electronics, and I all got a pat-down.
Then they re-packed my suitcase, including the protein powder, and sent me on my way.
Repacking It All
I texted my hosts for the week: You may be housing a terrorist.
She texted back: Is it too late to run a background check?
Haha.
My morning’s confidence had melted away in the pat-down, but then I thought about my fellow travelers. Have they made it through security yet?
Right then, their text message arrived. Oh, good. I could still help. Maybe carry the baby. Or a bag.
Then I read the text: We’re at the gate.
I Learned
I once held the belief that airport security lines took forever. Long snake lines measured in eons.
But I’ve learned. Nothing takes as long as being threatened with protein powder prison.
The eagle gathers herself for only a moment. Then she spreads her wings. Can you hear the powerful whoosh, the strength of those wings as she launches herself into the wide-open atmosphere?
The hardest part is the liftoff, when she needs strong muscles to leave the ground. Then she can seek out the sky’s currents.
Everything appears different from this new perspective. To stay on the ground limits vision. So much can be seen once the eagle lifts off.
Don’t stay on the ground, my love. That choice feels safe in your grief but it obscures your view.
Please: no more hiding in the bushes. Find the courage to talk to others, to participate, to join where once you would have laid low.
You will be exposed, but you have strength like an eagle when you trust in me.
Don’t fear the open skies. Take flight in the strength I give you.
Soar.
But those who trust in the LORD will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.
See how the incense arises like liquid smoke, curling in waves of sweet aroma?
My Israelite children understood how incense symbolized their prayers. So, also, your prayers flow as perfume to me.
Now breathe in the sweet and cleansing scents of my presence.
Inhale my presence. Do you feel me calm your heart? I will stroke your head and give you fresh wisdom. New life.
Don’t let today’s responsibilities steal away what I offer you: my care and my breath.
Allow me to permeate your day as the fragrance of my love and life reaches deep within you.
Rest in me, dear one.
Let me strengthen you always.
When the days thicken with loss and dread, breathe in my fragrant love.
I am here.
This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Look! I am going to put breath into you and make you live again. I will put flesh and muscles on you and cover you with skin. I will put breath into you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord.
A rose bud opens in the storm and a new kind of beauty emerges.
Battered but resilient.
You didn’t think you’d grow from grief. Such fierce loss demands a great deal: so many details, so many responsibilities. Bank accounts. Relationships. Decisions.
And always the gaping crater of loss.
But compassion and kindness can bloom in a tempest. The slashing pain of grief can harden a heart or soften it.
Something of value has been released in you through this battle. I brought you understanding and unveiled deep love. So that you are able to give what I have given to you.
Stand tall, my love, and let your new life unfurl.
We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed.
You crawled when the pain drilled into your heart. Rocks bit into your knees and tore through your skin.
But you stretched out a hand, feeling the grit of the path scrape your palms.
You reached out anyway.
Then a day came when you planted your feet and stood. When I whispered, “Can you take one tiny step?” you spread your arms wide to steady your balance and inched forward.
Now you walk. Your knees still ache and your hands remain bruised.
Look where you have come. You have climbed rugged rocks and towering boulders.
Microscopic steps have lengthened into strides.
New life whispers. Do you see the glimpses of new direction ahead? Of hope?
I walk with you, as I have every inch of the way. I’ve never left you. My love surrounds you like a warm pool, washing your torn knees and aching palms.
You move with faltering progress now, my love, but one day you will dance with me. We will spin and twirl, celebrating new life.
Keep walking, my love.
For who is God except the Lord? Who but our God is a solid rock? God arms me with strength, and he makes my way perfect. He makes me as surefooted as a deer, enabling me to stand on mountain heights.
