Hopping in a Lyft this morning with my high heals hanging out of the side of my carry-on, hot tea spilling over the edge of my thermos, and my makeup bag firmly clutched under my arm would have been a pretty funny sight to see if it hadn’t been in the blackness of the 4 o’clock hour. Instead, Steve the driver, simply said “Good morning!”, pointed out the location of the cup holder, and away we went. We exchanged crazy stories throughout the drive, while I texted with my sister Kim (who was already through security at the airport) about my ETA. When I finally arrived at Love Field, the place was a zoo.
Let’s just say that was not what I expected to find at 5:00 on a weekday morning.
After surveying my options, I quickly collected my things and placed my bets on the curbside check-in. Just as I was questioning that decision, I saw a familiar face at the front of the line. My sister Heather and her family were waving frantically for me to join them. Who knew we were on the same flight? I popped around the side, handed them my bag to check and voila! Without even flashing my driver’s license, we were on our way. I was beginning to think we had it made in the shade, until. . . we rounded the corner, revealing the security line that was zig-zagged all through the lobby, completely packed.
This was going to be interesting.
After over forty, long minutes in the security line, I made it through with only a minimal pat-down and no extra bag scanning. Heather’s family wasn’t as lucky. So in hopes of relieving the social pressure Kim was experiencing, trying to save an entire row of seats on SWA, I grabbed all my belongings and made a beeline for the escalators. With all my jewelry trailing out of one fist, and my carry-on in the other, I hiked up my pencil skirt to race up the stairs and finished with a full sprint to the gate. We made it safely on the flight with everything intact and avoided any embarrassing pleas over the intercom to find seats for all the kiddos together. , with the minor exception of one Batman sippy cup, and all of my pride.
The lesson?
Beyond the obvious continual training of the rebellious risk-taker in me, is the reminder that life seldom turns out the way we plan. And it’s almost always other people who save us. Just when we start to think we’re doomed, and we’ve finally reached the end of our rope, that’s when our people show up on the horizon with the reinforcements. That’s when an opportunity to work together presents itself.
It’s when we remember our humanity, and that we belong to each other.
If life has thrown you a curve ball you weren’t expecting, and the end of your rope is in sight, look around. Let down your guard and be open to receive the support you need. I bet you’ll find your people on the horizon, waving you over to the safe harbor.
If you’re safe in the harbor, look out to the depths and into the faces of the people you see there. If you see fear in their eyes and beads of sweat on their foreheads, wave them over. Take their bags and tell all your judgment take a hike. You never know what got them there. Tomorrow, it could very well be you.
Throughout the hectic pace of the holidays, keep your eyes open.
Look for opportunities to bring peace to your fellow traveler.
The best life happens when we remember we belong to each other.
to more love,
Crystal
