So, I now have my one item of luggage that must fit the compartment of the plane, depending the plane type, as well as a carry on item that must be suitable to fitting under one's seat or can also go into the luggage compartment. I am a woman--let's just say I carry two suitcases! This whole two pieces gets me each time. I know folks are staring at me, just like I am staring at them to help each other justify the size of the bags we have carried with us and refuse to check-in. The airline stewardess of one of my travels played the "how many bags do you have" game with me, unwilling to allow me to go pass to my seat until I counted my purse as a bag. ((JERK!)) However, going back to security and the entire process, on one these travel adventures I truly felt like I had been sent back in time to slavery or the Holocaust, being stripped of all I am and made to feel less than human. Forgive my harshness but I am serious. At an airport up North (I'll leave state and name unmentioned), the security seriously thought themselves to be the gestapo. The "SS Guard" barked orders and made rude comments to any of us who were "non-compliant". It was harsh, brutal, and all of us were really trying to be good passengers and citizen minding our business only desiring to get to our destination. We were clueless as to how we had pissed this man and his crew off--how had we produced such hatred and disdain in their hearts? Extreme? Yes, which is exactly how a reality series was able to be made on the experiences in airports. No, really--the series existed and I saw a few of the episodes.
Soooooo, in all my brokenness, I made it safely through another experience with security, which was actually pretty decent for such an intrusive process. As I sighed and complained and went through the woes of this tormenting cycle, it was like God sent an angel to me in the midst to show me the error of my ways. ((And, I was traveling under the influence of medication, so maybe it was a hallucination, but it was so very clear.)) I had to stop to count my many blessings, as I have been fortunate to never have to travel via plane (or really anywhere) alone with a child under the age of 8. I came across more than one mother traveling alone with their small child, and was immediately made humble. I suppose I had nothing better to do after experiencing as many delays as I did this weekend. People watching became a bit of a hobby/habit that entertained and made the time go by a little faster.
In one airport, a mother and her son had been traveling since 5 AM that morning. The woman was trying to make it to NY and had come up from Florida. Now, by the time she and I crossed paths it was well into the dinner hour and she was only at the midpoint in even reaching the final destination. She was done! She yelled at her mom on the cell phone--how I know her whole story. Meanwhile, her little man was "off the chain". He would not listen and continued to ask and ask and ask questions. She took him to grab some dinner in one of the restaurants. They had cereal, which he cried for. They came back to the sitting area where he accidentally dropped some on the floor. Mom said, "Ah! Do not pick that up and eat it." Of course, he did. It welcomed challenge. She tried to reason with him. He protested in the joy of eating like the fifth piece of cereal he had not intentionally started throwing on the ground, "It tastes okay to me, Mom. I don't know what you mean that it is bad. It's not gross." The final straw came when the little guy was told by his mother not to turn his bottle of chocolate milk upside down. He did and everywhere it went on him and the floor. The tears, the crying, the apologies all came like a hurricane.
Situation number two. Different airport. Different day. Grandmother, Mother, and child were traveling and patiently waiting for their delayed flight. I quickly picked up on the fact that the little guy was another whopper just by those responding who were nearby. One family quickly made their way away from them--politely but obviously seeing the hyper-ness of the little man. Another woman gawked at the child. She could not take her eyes off the train wreck, yet offered no assistance or communication. The final straw with this little guy was as he was attempting to "ride" the suitcase across the aisle having been told more than once not to and going right into the metal of one the chairs. Tears, yells and apologies all came in like a tsunami. (I should add that not even twenty minutes later, as they were trying to board the plane, this little one would not listen to follow mom to the line. Soon enough he found himself alone and without his mother: "Mommy? Mommy!!! Where are you??" Tears. Yells. And, once found, apologies.)
My reality came in the appreciation I have for all parents out there. I continue to joke that God has me working on plants for now and even that can be a challenge. I struggle with just trying to get myself through the obstacle of flying, yet I watched these women with their precious cargo and some common themes were so visible. Even in the midst of nonsense, confusion and disobedience, the amount of love and patience each of these women continued to shower upon their muffins amazed the mess out of me. Such an outpouring of love magnified the true masterpiece of what the Creator desired as he crafted such magnificent designs as the concept of mother to child--their link and bond.
Their precious cargo silenced my heart, convicted and condemned me to a morsel. I could no longer complain. And, perhaps my next flight out will be faced with a new view.
