Tip of My Iceberg

 

It’s been a crazy three-week stretch.

I’ve done more traveling than I’m used to. I’ve always love the idea of travel–going new places, being with people well-loved and seldom-seen, enjoying sights and smells that aren’t typical to me.

But there are those airplanes involved.

I’m not whining about the speed at which planes can get me somewhere. I’ve a deep gratitude for being able to arrive somewhere far away in a matter of hours. My memories of road trips entail small children, multitudes of rest stops and too many golden arches.

But those plane rides. They undo me. I’d love the option of twitching my nose and showing up where I need to be.

Planes, for all their glorious wonder of getting us places quickly, are small inside. Where all passengers are packed in like sardines lined up in a tin.

Everybody crabs about leg room. That isn’t my issue. With a body type more closely resembling a penguin–long torso, shorter legs–I tend to dangle my feet for hours. Like a two-year-old. Which can cause a royal pain to the legs. Attitude.

I’ve plenty of room in my seat, no matter what plane I’m in. I do, however, always seem to be sitting next to someone who wants more of my space.

At some point on any plane ride, I will have to use the bathroom. It’s a given. It’s never as urgent if I’m sitting in an aisle seat. It always feels more pressing if I’m sitting in the middle or window seat.

And have to ask everyone to move. For me.

I never like to be an inconvenience. Making strangers move for me always feels so…awkward.

Especially when they’ll have to get up and do it again within five minutes.

I was sitting next to two gals on the way home from Austin who were in the middle and window seats.

I was immersed in a book on my Kindle.

I felt someone’s mental space infringing on mine. Someone staring.

I ignored that feeling for a bit, but finally relented. Looked up.

To find both girls staring at me.

“‘Scuse me. I need to go to the bathroom.”

They could have said something.

How can something so wonderful (shorter commute times) be so uncomfortable?

Life is like that. Uncomfortable because it won’t be all good. No matter how hard I try to control it, manage it, protect it.

I can’t be all good this side of heaven. I’m a mix: the goodness of God in me because I know Him and the darkness of my heart which wants to do it’s thing.

Jesus told us to love our enemies. To pray for those who hurt us intentionally.

And we all will, at some point, hurt others. Intentionally.

God chose to create us all in His image. With the ability to think, choose and feel. And He longs for us to choose to personally relate to Him.

Everyone needs the chance to experience hope and redemption. To be loved by God.

Forgiven.

It means dealing with, forgiving, loving uncomfortable people in our carefully controlled comfortable lives.

Because sometimes, we’re the annoying people in the middle seat.