An Airport Adventure

“Groups two and three you are now invited to board Delta flight 1204 to Minneapolis.” The steward at the counter set down the microphone as the last few people moved into line to show their boarding passes. I shouldered my bag and followed, my heart pounding in excitement. This was only my second time to fly in an airplane and its’ novelty had not yet worn off. Even now, after having been on multiple flights, I still get a thrill.
It was a cold and snowy Friday afternoon in January. My mom and brother had just dropped me off at the tiny Wausau, WI airport. After a quick trip through security I was boarding one of those dinky commuter planes, bound for Minneapolis. From there I would catch a direct flight to Sacramento, CA where my friend Claire was picking me up to spend a week with her and her family in Grass Valley.
The plane really was tiny. I had to hold my bag in front of me and carefully sidle down the aisle way. There are definitely disadvantages to boarding in the last group! Slowly I moved along, trying not to look at the passengers, but rather at the numbers along the luggage bins that indicated seat assignments. I had reserved a window seat, which was my favorite. I could never get tired of the bird’s eye view.
When I neared row 12, my heart sank. A very large yet smiling lady had taken my window seat. Trying to mask any disappointment, I quietly lifted my bag into the overhead bin and slid into the aisle seat next to the older woman. I noticed right away that on her foot and leg was a large medical boot.

“Hi honey” she greeted me with a bubbly smile. “I took the window seat so that you wouldn’t have to try and get over me. I hope you don’t mind.” I smiled back and shrugged it off. “It’s just fine I said. “Don’t feel bad.”
For the next few minutes we chatted casually and introduced ourselves. I learned that her name was Donna and she was flying on all the same flights that I was to Sacramento. Two months earlier she had been visiting her brother north of Wausau when she fell on ice and broke several bones in her foot and leg. Surgery was necessary and then rehab so she had been unable to travel home. Now she was finally flying back to her husband in CA and she was so excited!
While we talked the plane had moved onto the tarmac and was going to be deiced before we could take off. By then it was snowing fairly heavy and I wondered if they would cancel our flight. Then our pilot spoke over the loud speaker and told us that Minneapolis had closed all but one of their runways and that we were not going to be able to land there until much later that night. This news was very distressing for Donna. I was also worried because there wasn’t much time in between flights and if we were delayed too long our flight from MSP to SAC would leave without us.
The time seemed to drag on. The deicing took longer than expected and it was getting late. The pilot informed us that there would be another flight in the morning if some people would rather wait until then. Several passengers left and I half considered it myself. But where would I have gone? My mom was home by then and there was no way I was going to ask them to come back for me. Also, there was now Donna to consider. She was anxious, and almost at the point of tears. Our flight to Sacramento was long gone and there would be no more that night. We had two options – spend the night in the airport once we landed at MSP, or stay in a hotel. I discussed these options with Donna.
“I can’t stay in the airport”, she wailed, “My leg needs to be propped up and I have to put on a different boot. And I cannot be by myself in a hotel either.” As she cried softly beside me my mind was racing. What was I going to do? I had friends in Minneapolis area and I knew that if I asked to spend the night with them they would come get me. But what about Donna? I could not just abandon her like this. And she was unable to come with me because my friends’ house had many stairs and she could barely walk let alone go up a staircase. I had been praying silently, and in that instant I knew what I had to do. I knew what the Lord was asking of me.
I turned to face Donna. “They will give us free hotel vouchers when we get to MSP”, I told her. You go ahead and get one and I will stay with you.”
Her look was incredulous. “You would do that?” She exclaimed, “But you only just met me!”
I nodded and squeezed her hand. “Yes Donna, I will. I was praying just now and this is what God is going to arrange for both of us.”
I did not know it then, but God had the rest of our trip planned out perfectly. Donna and I needed only to follow His directions.

When a person needing a wheel chair or any kind of assistance flies, they are given first priority for everything. It also means that the traveling companion gets these privileges too. For Donna, that companion was now me! The minute we got off the plane and entered the Minneapolis airport we were attended to by staff that pushed Donna’s chair while I carried the luggage. They helped us find the ticket counter where we would get our hotel voucher and new flights for the morning. The lines were massive, but somehow we were pushed through to almost the front. I could not believe it.
Within a half hour we had a voucher for the most expensive hotel available, and two new flight tickets. But there was one minor problem – Donna and I had not been able to get the same flights for CA. The only two had layovers in Salt Lake City, and neither had enough seats open for us to go together. I was not concerned about this, but Donna was pretty upset. I consoled her as best as I could and promised to try to go on standby for her flight, which left first the next day.
Rather than get a taxi, I had asked my friend Brittaney to come and drive us to our hotel. She was a great sport and with the help of Google maps we found our destination. By then it was nearly midnight. While Donna checked in at the front desk I asked for a wheel chair. To my dismay there wasn’t one!  Donna was traveling with just a walker, and she was only allowed to put weight on her foot for short distances. We had asked for the closest room but it was still too long of a walk. Frustrated I stepped into the lobby across the hall and scanned the room looking for anything that had wheels. When I saw the big black office chair by the desk in the corner I wanted jump up and down and whoop. I wheeled it out to Donna in the hall and Brittaney and I helped her on to it. In my mind I had imagined the chair rolling smoothly down the carpeted floor. However, reality turned out quite the opposite. The wheels were sticky and constantly binding, but we persisted and got her down to the room without an accident. Brittaney left us then and we began to settle in for the night.
The hotel room was one of the nicest I had seen. Under different circumstances I might have actually enjoyed it. But that night was one of the longest, most sleepless nights I had ever experienced.
In the rehab center Donna had developed the habit of sleeping with the television on. The hotel room was going to be no different. She turned it on right away and settled into the armchair where she told me she wanted to sleep for the night.
I tried very hard to sleep. My body was screaming for rest but my mind could not shut down long enough to allow me to drift off. I was still high on caffeine from the coffee I had gotten in the MSP airport, and I suppose I was still pumping adrenalin from all that had occurred in the last several hours. The flashing TV and its background noise didn’t help either. At one point, when I was sure that Donna was sleeping, I crept over to the remote by her chair and turned the thing off. It was short lived. Donna stirred and turned it back on.
To get as far away from the screen as possible I moved to the floor on the far side of the bed closest to the wall. But then I was right next to the heater so I got extremely hot and sweaty! There just wasn’t anything I could do to help myself.
The restless night was over around 5:30 Saturday morning. Donna and I had to catch the shuttle to the airport at 6 am, so there was no time for dilly-dallying. We grabbed a quick breakfast in the lobby and then we were headed back to MSP.

Once inside the crowds of people and length of the lines to security were dizzying. I wondered how I would ever get Donna through fast enough to catch her early flight. Yet, once again the Lord was watching out for us. We were met at the doors by staff with a wheelchair and were whisked through the special passengers line all the way to the front. I felt awkward to be given such care and privileges. It was Donna that needed the attention, not me. I was just the servant. Yet I smiled to myself because I knew that God’s fingers were all over this.

After security we boarded one of those special airport go carts that I had always wanted to ride! Our driver was hilarious and kept us laughing all the way through the terminal to the gate. As soon as Donna was seated I approached the ticket counter and asked if I could go on standby for the flight. The stewardess gave me a funny look. My heart sank, and I was afraid to hear what she would say next. Turning to the computer screen she chuckled and said, “Oh hon, you won’t need to do that. I have a seat for you on this flight.” She then scanned my ticket and arranged for me to have a seat on the next flight from Salt Lake City to CA as well.
Brimming with excitement I returned to Donna and told her the good news. She was so happy I think she was about to cry. “Do you see how God is looking after us?” I exclaimed joyfully. “He is so good!”

The next two flights went smoothly with Donna and I always boarding first. Again I felt awkward and spoiled but there was nothing I could do but try to enjoy it. Donna certainly was. She was also becoming very excited to see her husband and son in Sacramento.

When we finally landed in California around one o’clock, I was exhausted. I had been functioning on almost no sleep for thirty-six hours, and hadn’t eaten much either. I was running strictly on adrenalin.
We got through the baggage claim pretty quickly, and then went to find Donna’s family. They spotted us first, and I was amazed by how quickly Donna’s little Italian husband could run. He was in her arms sobbing and telling her over and over that he would never let her leave him again. I had to fight tears myself as I witnessed the emotional reunion. Introductions were made, their son Brian snapped a picture and then Donna gave me a tearful goodbye. “I wont forget you, my little angel”, she whispered. “Thank you so much for taking care of me.”
I embraced her then, feeling much emotion and difficulty in saying goodbye. “It was all God”, I whispered back. “Thank Him. He gets all the glory.” They left then and I headed for the front doors where I hoped to find Claire. When she wasn’t there I stood dumbly, unsure of what to do next. Then, to my amazement I heard my name over the loudspeaker. They were telling me to meet my party. But where? Claire was nowhere to be seen. I got on the airport phone and asked them to tell me where I would find my ride. The man who answered advised me to go outside and wait on the curb. I did, and along came Claire in her dad’s Ford pickup. I couldn’t have been more relieved.
”Where were you!” Claire cried as she got out to hug me. “I have been here for almost an hour driving in circles. Did you have the wrong time?”
Turns out I had. The time I had told her was the time we were to be boarding the plane to Sacramento. My brain definitely had not been functioning properly.
After a very pleasant week in sunny CA, I was flying home. That flight was quiet and uneventful which was just as I’d hoped. The adventure with Donna was far more than I could handle for one trip, and I was going home praising the One who had orchestrated it all.

The Backpack Story

Here I share a story about how an extra large, bulging purple backpack went missing in Guatemala’s capital city thanks to my forgetfulness.  It is one of my favorite experiences from my second visit to that lovely country.  Enjoy!

On our way to Oratorio after our adventure

“There’s Craig,” I told my friend and traveling companion, Lavina. Quickly I stood and gathered my things. The time was about six am in a busy bus terminal in Guatemala City. So busy, in fact, that Lavina and I had been sitting on the cold concrete floor for over half an hour because all the benches were full. We had just arrived on a night bus from El Chal, where we were living with Lavina’s brother and family. The eight-hour ride from the Peten to the Capital had been unusually quiet and without delays. Our final destination was Oratorio in southern Guatemala for the Easter vacation. After staying with friends there, we would return to the Capital to attend a youth institute over the coming weekend.

Craig now met us with a smile, and looked surprisingly chipper for having been awakened by my phone call at 5 am. He moved to help us with our bags, and then asked in surprise, “Is this all you have?”
His query caused me to jerk in horror. I whirled, surveying our collection of belongings and gasped aloud as I realized I did not have my big purple backpack. “Oh no!” I moaned. “I forgot to get my backpack from the bus’ luggage compartment!” Craig wasted no time. He quickly led us out into the street and pointed to the waiting mission van. “I heard a man calling out about a forgotten bag as I was coming in to get you”, he explained. You girls get in the van and I’ll see if I can find him.”
Lavina and I made our way through the crowd of people and across the street. I groaned inwardly as we got into the van. “That was so stupid of me”, I lamented to Lavina, and our driver, Larry. “If that bus is gone I will never see my bag again.”
Within minutes Craig returned, his face grim. “Your bus has already gone to their headquarters for the day”, he told us, “with your backpack probably still on it.”

“So they don’t have a lost and found collection here?” I knew the answer before I even asked. This was Guatemala, not the Mall of America. Craig smiled dryly. “We have two options,” he continued, “I can come here tonight at nine when the bus is back, or we can drive up to the bus lot and try to find it.”

After a quick discussion we decided to head for the bus company headquarters. Craig told us it was a half hour drive back in the direction Lavina and I had just come. It was also on the opposite side of the city from MAM headquarters where we were supposed to be going. This news made me only feel worse.
“Lydia,” Craig turned to me, “Is there anything in the backpack important like your passport or money? Because there is a really good chance we are not going to find it.”
I shook my head. “No, it just has all my clothes for the week.”
Everyone in the van laughed.
A half hour later we found the head office and Craig went in to inquire after the bus. He returned with the news that it wasn’t there, but he had been advised to check across the road. Craig didn’t seem too optimistic but I was hopeful. The entire ride I had been praying about the situation, and somehow I just knew that God was going to take care of it.
Larry drove us to the other side of the road and we quickly spotted several rows of buses at the top of a hill. There was just one problem – a concrete wall surrounded them. We went up there anyway, only to discover that they were not the right buses. Both Craig and Larry had been great sports during our hunt, but I could sense this was beginning to push their patience.
On our way up the hill we had seen another row of buses behind a gas station, so Craig decided that we try it as a last resort. Larry parked in a vacant lot and Craig got out. Lavina, Larry and I waited, talking to pass the time. I was silently doing some more praying. The thought of losing all those clothes was not a pleasant one. My wardrobe for this trip to Guatemala was already minimal, with most of my dresses being in that backpack. To be without them, especially for this vacation, was somewhat of a disaster.
The minutes dragged by. I began to worry that something had happened to Craig.
After what seemed like an eternity he appeared, and slung over his shoulder was my purple backpack. Joyfully I hugged Lavina and exclaimed, “Praise the Lord!”
We got on the road again, with Craig relating to us the story of his search. He’d been allowed into the bus area only reluctantly by the guard, and had spent most of his time going down the line of buses looking inside their luggage areas until he finally found my bag. I thanked Craig for trying so hard, and Larry too. Both had been  willing and patient during the trip. I was also thanking my heavenly Father who so graciously watched out for me in my carelessness.
We got to the mission headquarters much later than expected, but there was still a hot breakfast left for us. And we didn’t have to wait long for our friends Samuel and Priscila to arrive. They were our ride to their hometown of Oratorio.
Once the week was over and we were packing on Sunday night after institute to return to El Chal, I handed Craig my purple backpack. He took it, then a look of recognition passed over his face. “I remember this bag,” he laughed while loading it into the van. I smiled back. “You probably won’t be forgetting it for a long time either.”
Certainly that backpack had created a hard-to-forget story for the four of us that day. God had also used it to teach me a lesson about carelessness. Perhaps most importantly, though, He showed me His power by returning a forgotten backpack.