13 Sep 2014
Traveling, especially by air, is not my favorite pastime. I know some people who just delight in flying from one point to another point. If you would count all of those people who do, I would be nowhere on that list.
Recently I had to travel involving changing planes, which involved spending a night at the Orlando airport. I could have come home, which is about two hours away, or I could spend the night and catch the plane the next day. It would cost me about the same to stay overnight at the airport as it would to travel back home and then return to the airport the next day. So, after all of my meticulous calculations, I decided to spend the night at the airport.
I determined while there to get the most of my night’s stay at the airport. The hotel at the airport was one of those big international hotels. It had more stories than a politician on the campaign trail. As is usually the case, my room was on one of the top stories of the hotel.
Checking in at the front desk, I then went to my room and settled down for the evening. I was not going to waste my time huddled in my hotel room, rather, I was going to look around and experience the “nightlife” at this international Airport.
Have you ever made a decision, then looking back on it you thought to yourself, “Self, we are never going to do that again.” Such was my case.
I decided to get some supper around 8 o’clock in the evening. This, I found out, was the time high society folk eat. Why they eat so late, I will never know. But, since I was with high society, I decided to act and eat like high society.
The restaurant in this international hotel was one of those highfalutin restaurants where you really do not know what is on the menu. The menu was in every language except English. Fortunately, they had some pictures and fortunately, my index finger was still in good working order. I ordered my supper, set back and observed the high society all around me.
One thought that stumbled through my brain at the time was, “I wonder if these people in this restaurant know that I am not part of high society?”
About this time the wine steward, I guess that is what he is called, came by to take my wine order. The only wine I know is spelled with an H. When I declined the wine, people began to suspicion I was not part of high society. I guess you cannot be part of high society unless you wine a little.
I finished my supper and decided to wander around in the huge lounge area on this floor. Everybody there was talking and so I got an order of coffee, went to a couch, sat down and just observed what was going on around me. One thing I noticed was that most people seemed to be on their cell phone. What would happen in our society if cell phones suddenly stopped working for three minutes? There would be such a panic across our country that nobody would actually survive.
I decided I should call someone on my cell phone. After all, I am trying to fit in with this high society. My dilemma came when I tried to figure out who in the world I should call at 10 o’clock in the evening.
Then it dawned on me. I will call the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage. I do not know why I did not think of this before. So, I pressed the speed dial and the phone started ringing.
As soon as the phone started ringing, a thought danced in my mind. What in the world am I calling her for? What in the world would I talk about?
Before finishing all of the questions floating around my cranium my wife answered the phone.
The first words out of her mouth were, “What did you forget now?”
It seems that whenever I go on a trip, before I get too far down the road I remember something I forgot. When I assured her that I had not forgotten anything, I sensed a slight pause on the other end and then she said, “Did you miss your plane?”
Within the next few minutes I was bombarded with question after question, all I did was call, and at this point, I could not remember why I had called her. It just seemed like the thing to do at the time.
After she settled down a little bit and her panic seizure ceased, I told her I just called to call.
“Oh,” she said, not knowing how to answer that.
I was shocked. It had never happened before. I am going to cherish this memory for as long as I live. I actually caught her when she had nothing to say. Needless to say, I relished that moment because it will probably never happen again.
After I hung up, I sat sipping some more coffee when one of my favorite verses came to mind. “And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear”(Isaiah 65:24).
My comfort rests in the fact that God is closer to me than my cell phone.