Interrupted

I was interrupted today.

It’s been a grueling two weeks, in the office long hours, typically with more laptop work when I get back to the hotel. Last night around midnight I gave up on a particularly gnarly assignment to go pack in anticipation of a 4am wakeup call before flying out. But when we got to the airport, a minor glitch turned into high drama, and a few hundred people missed flights. Now our 5:30am arrival time was a little unnecessary… for a 5:30pm flight.

Talk about an interruption.

True to form, Dad whipped out his laptop and encouraged me to do the same, so I set up shop in the perfect area for people watching, overlooking a hallway connecting half of the terminal. I think it’s a sign that office life isn’t for me, though, because it’s been hard for me to concentrate with all these people walking by.

One mom was trying to get her toddler to watch a mini DVD- complete with the headphones. He wasn’t interested, too curious about what flavor headphone she had selected for his chewing pleasure.

One older couple was wheeled off the plane by a tiny, white haired man who had been running around the airport all morning.

A dad sat down, surrounded by four precious toddlers in matching sparkly red shirts. When Mom showed up, the littlest lifted her chubby face and asked to go to the bathroom, Frustrated, the mom dragged her off, only to return her to Dad and storm off again. She got back just in time to board and wouldn’t hold any of the nervous, clutching fingers.

One dad walked hand in hand with his little girl, and when the carpet ended and the striped tiling began, they stopped, and she declared, “Light green!” So they very carefully stepped on the dark green stripes and avoided the light green ones…. the whole way down.

A group of nervous tweens all dressed alike returned from the News Exchange with a bag of contraband: bags of candies. Sneaky and giggly, the inhaled the whole lot, then skipped back off to their terminal, prepared to annoy the entire cabin but visibly having the time of their lives.

A tiny old lady, a little Abuelita, slowly walked down the hallway with a little bag that was clearly all she could manage. She paused for a moment and half of the crowd swerved around her, too busy to see the body of this auntie wasn’t able to keep up with the flow of traffic, as hard as she tried to push it. Regaining her strength, she continued on, struggling down the hallway as bravely as she could, little and alone. I watched her walk until I lost sight of her in the frenzied, rushing crowd.

A young man in army fatigues sat down in one of the waiting areas, holding his bag, absorbed in his thoughts. Two flight attendants were walking by, and one stopped, turned back to this soldier, leaned down and said something. He nodded once, and the two women continued on their way.

I couldn’t help but wonder, is her son overseas? Was she thanking him for his service, knowing that service by definition tends to be a thankless task, filled with complaints but rarely with gratitude? Was she wishing him well, knowing he may be sent off to war, that he may never return to this place, may never return home?

This hallway is filled with life. Babies and teenagers are learning to make their way, and the elderly are trying to keep a pace they once pioneered. Families are growing closer together, making memories and sharing stories, or they are being torn apart by frustration and selfishness. People are eating and walking and working and shopping.

No one noticed the girl on her laptop, watching them all, silently praying the little boy eating the headphones would crave the Bread of Life, that the frustrated mom would love her little girls the way Christ loved the church, that the sweet old lady would have sweet grandchildren to teach to pray, that the men going off to war put on the full armor of God, and that more than any political battle, that they fight the good fight of faith.

That’s my prayer on this interrupted day, as I wait to take my own journey, in between document reviews and flight status checks. Jesus came that all men would be saved, so as I sit here, interrupted on my way to the beach, I’m praying for the men and women in my path.

Life on the Road

You would think the World Race would have taught me a thing or two about life on the road.

To some extent, it did. I can pack for four weeks straight and all manner of activity (beach, friends, office, family) in about 45 minutes flat. I'm not overly stressed when I realize I forgot toothpaste, knowing that pretty much anywhere in the world you can pick up that minty stuff. I've even, to some extent, started nesting- this, the third (or fifth, depending how you look at it) of the "homes" I've had over the last few weeks looks decidedly lived in. Not messy, but unpacked.

See? Miracles really do happen, Mom.

But here's something that I thought I'd learned that apparently I need to relearn: Community is a big freaking deal.

It's the hardest thing on the planet, and the most important thing, too.

This week I have the joy and privilege of working with some people who, for lack of a better term, aren't exactly my first choice of travel companions. So of course this girl who survived India and made it to Moldova loved everyone around her, the way Christ loved the church...

Yeah right.

I've been mean and snotty and downright rude.

And then, in my holier than thou way, I was reading my Bible like any good church girl, and the Holy Spirit literally took a fist to my face and threw me flat on the floor.

Ok, not literally, but kind of literally.

Those who consider themselves religious (uhhh, me) and yet do not keep a tight reign on their tongues deceive themselves, and their religion is worthless. Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after widows and orphans in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

Awesome. So little miss religious over here, the one who loves to hold orphans and hug widows, the one who knows the Gospel backwards and forwards and gets excited about sharing it... her faith is worthless if she can't reign in her tongue??


All of a sudden, it all hit me: every mean side comment I'd made, every snotty attitude, every rude action. Religion that God our Father accepts makes no division between cool and uncool, worthy and unworthy. We are all sinners (of whom, to quote Paul, I am the worst), saved by an infinite grace from the most severe of punishments for the sin of setting ourselves up as God.

Because when I judge people, I'm telling God, "Hey listen- great job and all with the whole creation thing, but you messed up this one person, but don't worry, I'll take care of the shunning for you."

It's more like, "Hey Natalie, this is Jesus. Do you realize that you're the biggest hot mess I've ever seen? And yet, even despite your selfishly prideful ways, I love you enough to give up everything for you, to bear the full weight of your condemnation and in doing do, I paid the price for you. You think this guy is a piece of work? Take a look in the mirror, My sweet but silly girl. I didn't save you so you could condemn others; I saved you so you would be My aroma to this hurting, broken world. Your mission is not to tell Me how dorky those around you are, it's to love them in spite of their harmless socially awkward ways, the same way I love you in spite of your sinful self obsession."

Jesus said it, now I get to live it, to be a part of the joyous kingdom that is revealed when I love my next door neighbor as myself.