Miles to go before I sleep

On January 14, my husband’s mother died after a long battle with ovarian cancer. That began a daunting journey for our family, one which we knew was coming but was hard to prepare for since we didn’t know the exact timing. I have a lot of thoughts on the trip that I want to write about here. I am not going to talk about the funeral portion of the trip out of respect for those who are dealing privately with the loss of a wife, mother, and grandmother.

Almost exactly one year ago, my husband and I took an hour and a half flight with our 2 boys to visit his parents in Canada. An hour and a half! At the end of that flight, I committed that I WOULD NOT be flying with my youngest again any time soon. It was like holding the Tasmanian Devil in my lap for an hour. So knowing for months that we would need to be taking a cross country flight from Seattle to SC with both boys has hung weightily over my head. The death was expected, and yet still caught us off guard. We thought she had a few more weeks. Then there was much to figure out with family spread all across the country. Perhaps the most stressful time for me, Agenda Wendy that I am, were the days knowing I was flying across country in a week or less but unable to purchase tickets until we got the exact dates nailed down. But we finally got the dates settled, and Sovereign God began His work to show me He had the details in His hand by giving us reasonable tickets purchased about 3 days before we left.

The flight out was reasonable–3 and 1/2 hours to Minneapolis and 1 and 1/2 hours on to Charlotte. But after we got on the flight to Charlotte, it was obvious my 4 year old was done flying and I was about done dealing with him. I prayed for God’s grace–because I was out of toys, suckers, and patience. My son didn’t calm down, but the pilot came on to say we were beginning our descent–25 minutes ahead of schedule. I was a little shell shocked after getting off the flight. The main thing that was rocking my world was the knowledge that in less than 2 weeks, I had to do it again by myself with the boys and that the flight back would be 2 hours longer than the flight out. At that point, it seemed completely impossible.

The next days were a series of get togethers of various sizes in various places with various family members. A couple of nights in Greenville, one night in Tennesee, back to Greenville, and finally to my parents’ home in Orangeburg, SC. Eventually, my boys wore out on meeting new people and sleeping in new places.

From the moment I got off the plane coming, I began praying earnestly for God’s grace and mercy to help me get back home by myself with the boys. After a day or so, it became something that I had to deal with, but it was no longer the anvil hanging over my head ready to crush me. I was able to enjoy my time with family.

I called the airlines ahead and had a conversation with them about my needs with 2 young boys and 2 car seats. They requested “assistance at all points” including a cart to transport my boys and stuff at our connection in Houston. Car seats were a big problem. They are very difficult to carry across an airport, but my boys do 20 times better sitting for long periods when they are in them. I’m glad I took them on the plane, but it was a pain getting them from place to place.

My dad got a gate pass and helped the boys and I get to our gate in Charlotte. The gate attendants in Charlotte helped me get the seats on the plane. All good so far. It was hectic but manageable. Then, on the flight from Charlotte, I asked the stewardess to double check that the cart would be available to help me make my very tight connection in Houston. She came back and said, “Well, this is how it is in Houston …” and proceeded to tell me that we would be walking outside from the plane to the terminal, a cart could then pick me up and take me to an elevator. Then I’d have to get on the tram by myself with my 2 boys and 2 carseats. Then I’d go through another elevator after which I could signal a cart (one wouldn’t be waiting) to help me to my gate, which was at the farthest point from where I would be landing in the very large Houston airport. At that point, I felt the stress kicking in. My blood sugar instantaneously dropped and I had to start eating a snack right then. I think I told the stewardess something like, “Well, I guess I’ll just be where they leave me at the elevator indefinitely because I can’t get on the tram by myself with all this.” Note to self–assistance at all points doesn’t mean the same thing to airport people that it means to me. I’ll be sure to get greater clarification if I ever fly again.

About the point my blood sugar was plummetting at the idea of sitting at the doors of the tram indefinitely and missing my flight to Seattle, a sweet voice piped up from the seat behind me. “I can help you.” Her gate was close to mine and she would be glad to help me get to mine however she could. I am notoriously independent and accepting help from strangers who aren’t being paid to help me is hard for me. She started talking quickly–she was with Calvary Chapel and was returning from a 5 month stint in Costa Rica telling children about the Lord. It was a weird moment, not the kind of thing of normal conversations on airplanes in that situation. Yet I knew exactly what it was the moment she said it–God was letting me know she was my sister in Christ who understood how God intended the community of believers to work. She was a servant for Christ and it was God’s best for both of us that she be there for me in that moment.

Jennifer helped me wonderfully across the airport. We made it just in time for my connecting flight. It was hectic and stressful, and yet there was something about God’s gift of grace to me through Jennifer that made it one of my sweetest memories from the trip. I probably only spent about 20 minutes with her, but we had a connection through Jesus. We were family in Christ. She knew it and I knew it.

The boys did relatively well on the long flight from Houston to Seattle. The 2 year old did his tasmanian devil act again, but he waited until the last 15 minutes of the nearly 5 hour flight, and it seemed a reasonable response to all the restraint he had endured all day. I felt a bit tasmanian devilish myself on the inside. I called my husband when we landed and he said he had gotten a gate pass and was waiting for us as soon as I got off the plane. My hero!

I am back in Seattle–processing in particular the way God ministers grace. My experience is that He gives just enough. His grace is sufficient–it is enough for what we need. He didn’t remove the obstacles, which would have been my first choice. Instead, He gave help–nourishment and aid–to do something that I absolutely knew I couldn’t do on my own. He gave it incrementally, not all at once. He gave it sometimes in barely noticeable ways. Other times, He was very obvious with His gift of grace.

2 Corinthians 9:8 And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.

2 Corinthians 12:9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

It’s funny that I didn’t pray nearly as extensively for God’s help when I was flying with my husband. It wasn’t until I was completely alone and at the end of myself that I really clung to God for help. And now I am so thankful for that experience. He increased my faith, and there is nothing more beautiful and sustaining than faith in Him. He is worthy and I praise Him anew today.