I’m in a complicated relationship with my suitcase. Unknown
The first time my husband and I flew to Lithuania, our one layover was in Riga, Latvia. Although it would have been fun to have had the time—and energy—after a ten-hour flight, to make a quick trip into the city to look around, we only had 35 minutes to deplane and rush to the proper terminal for our connecting flight to Vilnius. As we breathlessly boarded the plane, we knew, in the realistic part of our brains, that it was unlikely our luggage was flying with us.
You may take a sympathetic moment to picture us standing by the slowly spinning luggage carousel at our destination, waiting in vain for our precious possessions to appear. That feeling is in a “bad feeling” category of its own. And this meant the dreaded conversation with airport personnel who did, to be honest, make an effort to reassure us that the luggage would arrive tomorrow. We made an effort to believe them.
The facts were that:
- we were in Lithuania to oversee the church there while our pastor friends were in the States, and
- this was the middle of the night on a Friday, and
- we would need to go shopping for clothes for Sunday service in the (very likely) event that our suitcases did NOT arrive when promised.
The next day, we did go shopping at a big mall for some things to tide us over. It was tiring and time-consuming. Believe me, a mall is not where you want to spend your time when looking forward to experiencing a foreign country.
Imagine our surprise when we got the text late in the day on Saturday that our suitcases had arrived.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. We were in Paris, heading to Lithuania—the end destination of our three-week trip to England and Europe. It was to be a huge weekend of celebrating 20 years of ministry of our friends in that country. The night before, when looking over our flight schedule, I saw—what? Thirty-five minutes to change planes in Brussels? Somehow, when buying our tickets, my husband had not taken this into account. So, while we were packing in the morning, eating breakfast, waiting for Uber, the little voice in my head was saying, “History, sweetheart, is about to repeat itself.”
We are, let me remind you, experienced travelers. Upon arriving at the airport, thinking we had arrived in good time, we discovered that the gate had just closed. No amount of thinly veiled desperation would open a gate and get us on the plane that was waiting tantalizingly right outside the window. Time to find another flight. Which we did. A direct flight. Leaving in eight hours.
Now, a layover of a few hours is one thing, but eight hours is another level of patience and regret. We did understand that this was our own fault. However, when the ticket was bought, I felt a wonderful sense of relief and thankfulness. No luggage worries. No wondering if we’ll have to spend the next day at the mall. We found a nice restaurant where they accommodated our bags, were seated by a charming server with a great sense of humor, and enjoyed a delicious, leisurely lunch. The following hours drifted by, and I didn’t mind one minute of them.
There are many lessons to be learned while traveling. One is: always smile and make eye contact. It’s one way, I’ve discovered, that they suspect you’re an American. Being gracious is a universal language that not everyone has learned. Be gracious anyway. Have a sense of humor. It often surprises folks overseas and is usually appreciated. The Luggage Episode was a good personal reminder that sometimes errors made that complicate one thing can fix other things—that simply pausing long enough to consider another perspective can smooth a difficult experience.
Psalm 78:28 was in my OYB reading for that weekend. It’s one of those verses that should ring in our minds every day of the year:
As for me, the nearness of God is my good. (NASB)
Yes, it is. Everywhere, all the time.