LaughingSeven

Location: San Francisco, CA

Sunday morning we get up at 7:30 and leave hotel at 8:15. Our hope is to drive 2 hours to Carmel, CA (quaint city by the ocean) and hang out there for a bit before our flight leaves San Jose at 5:45.

One hour into the drive from San Fran to Carmel, we run into a triathlon….the biking portion. We’re driving on highway 1 (beautiful scenic byway that goes along the coast), so for an hour and a half or so I’m driving two-fisted on the wheel at roughly 20-30 mph dodging bikers on both sides of the roads. Think Tour-de-France with open roads. There where over 2,000 bikers. Until the triathlon, our trip had been amazing. Usually we encounter at least 2 or 3 situations in travel that border on insane, so the fact that our trip had gone by without a problem until now was pretty amazing.

We finally make it to Carmel at 12:30 (2 hours later than expected due to said triathlon) and get lunch at an awesome Italian bistro: Great food and great company. We walk around the town for an hour, and then hop back in the car to drive to San Jose to fly home.

Our flight leaves at 5:43. We get to the airport (hardly worth calling an airport… more like a place that has airplanes, and that’s it) at 4:20, and are a little nervous about making our flight. This fear is quickly thrown out the window when we walk into the-place-that-has-airplanes and see the ticket counter, the security screening, and the departure gate all within 30 feet of each other. I was afraid they’d ask me to help fly the plane, or at least help load the luggage on the plane.

The strange thing is that this is an international airport. Either the folks at San Jose don’t believe Seattle is apart of the United States or they make one flight a year to an airport situated on the border of the US where the wheels of the plane roll over the border during landing and thus can be considered international. In either case, this is not the picture of an international airport that will be featured in any airline or airport (or place that has airplanes) documentary.

So, back to the story. We get to the airport…er…place-that-has-airplanes at 4:20 and are sitting at the gate by 4:25. I could have made it through the security screening 200 times by the time our flight was to depart (not that’d I want to by the way). Anyway the boarding call comes at 5:15…. Ooops, that was for the wrong flight. That was for the Boise flight departing at the gate next to our flight. So they board the Boise folks.

This is where the fun begins.

We’re next to board. They call for us to board at roughly 5:30, which is a little late, but no big deal. A hundred ore more folks (in a room that now feels no bigger than a ) get in line to board. After the first 10 passengers board, the line stops moving. No moving for 10 minutes. We’re all in line wondering what’s going on. Rumors make their way through the line that the flight might be a ‘no go’.

Then this: “Ladies and gentleman, the pilot has found a problem with your aircraft and is looking into the problem right now. You can be seated as it’ll be a few minutes before we know anything.”

Rumblings throughout the terminal (The entire terminal is literally the size of a big Starbucks coffee shop).

So we sit. I go up to the counter to check on options in case our flight doesn’t leave tonight. There’s another flight leaving San Jose at 8:05 (2+ hours later). Well, at least we have options.

Thirty minutes later, they tell us that the flap on the right wing has gone awry. They’re waiting for the mechanic to check out the problem and should know something in 15-20 minutes. Time is now 5:55. I make my way to the ticket counter, and all of a sudden there is a hoard of folks coming through the gate next to us (the Boise gate).

Through mumblings, I hear that their plane (the Boise one) is now grounded with engine failure. Their flight is cancelled. Sucks for them, but I’m getting out of this damn airport-er-place-that-has-airplanes tonight to see my kids. I get booked on the 8pm flight, and a smile of my resourcefulness is seen on my face (I got two of 12 seats on this later flight). My wife loves me. I love me. My kids love me. I am the greatest….

I am hungry.

Stephanie is pregnant and is hungrier. The people at the desk tell us that food vouchers are available for those of us who are waiting on the flights (which is all 3-400 in this room), just get in line… Remember, two flights have now been cancelled (or postponed) so now people are spanning (I use the term spanning very very loosely) 4 gates with 8 flights supposed to depart within the next 2-3 hours. You should read this as “LOTS of people in the room.

So, the line for the meal vouchers is long. I wait for an hour and decide that my $12 of cash is worth more than their $12 of vouchers given that it’ll take me another hour to get the voucher in my hands, and then I’ll have to stand in line for the food. The hits keep on coming.

I buy dinner at Joe Bob’s sandwich shack (amazing there was a place with food in this ‘place that has airplanes’). After dinner, 7:20pm or so, the plane with the flap failure (our original flight at 5:45) is having a part driven down from Oakland so that it can be fixed. This part is rumored to consist of match sticks, bubble gum, and some silly string. But hey, whatever works…right?

Meanwhile, the Bosie flight (with the engine failure) is rumored to begin boarding in the next hour. Good for them. We’re happy for them, we’re happy for us as we have a flight scheduled to leave at 8pm, and we’ll be home by 10:30 or so.

Wrong.

I learn from the airline folks (at this point I should mention that a grand total of 4 flight attendants are working 3 gates for the 8 flights) that 3 planes in Seattle scheduled to depart for Northern California (including the 8:00 flight we’re supposed to leave on) are all grounded due to mechanical failures. Yeah, that’s right. At least 5 planes all bound for either San Jose, Seattle, or Boise are all grounded with mechanical failures.

So now our plane in Seattle supposed to depart from San Jose at 8:00 PM hasn’t even left Seattle (it’s 7:30 now) and won’t be in San Jose until at least 10pm. The flap on the other plane is still broken (evidently the bubble gum and silly string isn’t working) and there’s little end in sight.

But wait, there’s more. We find out that San Francisco (45 min from San Jose) has a flight leaving at 9:05. We might be able to make that flight. So we, along with 6 other hopeful stranded passengers, hop on a van to be driven to SFO (San fran airport… yes, it’s an airport and it has planes) in hopes of getting on that flight.

After an uneventful drive (amazing, we know) we arrive at the SF airport at 8:15. The plane boards at 8:30. We make it through the security just fine, and get to the gate at 8:25. I see the plane out the window (note, the San Jose airport doesn’t have windows. not sure if it’s underground….or maybe under water, I still never saw a single plane, or passenger, leave the building through a gate). So I see the plane out the window, and I’m thrilled. We’re finally going home.

I then hear “Ladies and gentlemen there is a problem on the jetway. We’re switching to gate 22 for this flight.”

Are you kidding me?

Again?

Another delay?

Thankfully that was the last eventful happening in our trip. We got on board, in first class thanks to my superior negotiating skills with the Alaska Air attendants, and made it all the way to Seattle. Thanks to some baileys and coffee on the flight, I was finally resting well after 14+ hours of travel that day.

We finally got in bed last night at 12:40.

We don’t know where our luggage is. but that’ll figure itself out.

While cleaning out my office/desk/study/spare-bedroom, I ran across some notes I wrote to myself during Church over the past few months…
—

What do we do when our most precious sacrifice and burnt offering is not our choice to give but is given on our behalf by God to Himself?

We mourn, but not as those who have no hope (1 Cor 15).

Can we know Christ in other means?

How am I teaching the concept of hope to my kids?

Are my dreams for the “why” or the “who” (or the “how)?

What are the solutions to my problems?
- Advice from others
- Forget about it.
- Explain it (the quest to feel good).

I don’t want to ask God for help because what I know of truth is that it is painful.

Justice reigns supreme.

What does it mean to be White?

It doesn’t matter if you are white or not, I’d love to hear what you think….be honest!

The carpet is blueish-purple with random shapes that would confuse even the most astute cryptologist. No, I’m not in a multi-billion dollar hotel casino, where the air reeks of floral smelling cigarettes; no, I’m sitting in the Vegas airport. The distant ‘bing’ of slot machines is not far off, both in my memory as well as just a few feet away in the C-Terminal courtyard. This carpet is my seat for the next 45 minutes as I wait patiently as the 2nd person in line under the “A” banner that denotes the Southwest travelers who are obsessive compulsive about checking in for their flight.

I’m sitting here for a number of reasons. First and foremost I need leg room on the plane. The engineers of air-travel do not care much for those of us who have legs that barely fit in the marginal space between seats. So I sit here hoping to snag one of the few seats that actually boast a comfortable amount of leg room for the upcoming 3 hour flight back to Seattle.

Secondly I am sitting here because my feet hurt. You know, that pain that begins as tingling heat in the ball of your heel then moves towards your toes with each step you take. No amount of air, rubber, or gel can keep a pair of feet comfortable after 4 days of walking on the strip, 2 rounds of golf, and hours of standing around the craps table as your watch your meager efforts at breaking the house slip away with each and every 7 that is thrown. They didn’t build Rome in a day, but they could build Vegas in a day if they wanted to.

My time in Vegas has capped off a less-than extended break between the spring semester of school and the forthcoming summer semester starting Monday. My time with Brian and Hunter was more than I had hoped. Between the high-fives after one of us driving a 300+ yard par-4 yesterday and a putter flying through the air after that same person took 4 putts to make it in the hole; we have had an amazing time together.

We laughed over the same jokes more times than we could count.
We paid too much for beer, taxis, and sunscreen.
We lost more than we won on the tables.
And we didn’t get enough sleep.

Yet it is times with friends like this that makes me know the beauty of life. As strange as it sounds, my soul has been refreshed here in Vegas…because of my friends.

Someday you’ll be in a fight with someone, and you’ll ask them to fight for you. You’ll beg for them to fight for the only thing that you know is true, you’re you. But how can you ask them to fight for this you if there’s not sense of who or how you are you? but that doesn’t matter because you still want them to step beside you, look into your eyes, and say “lets go”. You’d cry helplessly if someone did that for you. You’d be worthless in the fight, a sitting duck and you are so afraid of them actually doing that. What will you say, what will you do if they join you on the front line seemingly asking for death?

Just think, the other person is asking you for the same thing. They want you to turn around and fight for them. Leave your desires and passions at the door, grab your sword and gloves, and walk into the battle that is raging. But realize that the fight isn’t going to make you feel better, it’s probably going to scare you and leave some wounds, and it’ll change you forever. Is it worth it? Is it worth the energy, the fear, the selflessness to fight for that which you so desperately want to be done on your behalf? Can you do it?

So then you leave, and go because there was too much at stake. Go away and find out why you got close, only to leave again. You’ve never had anyone fight for you before and more likely you’ve never asked or let someone else fight with you. So you go on with life, fighting your own wars, becoming yet another casualty on the long list of those who walk with no echo. No echo, no echo.

I ask you; what will you fight for?

Fight for glory?
for honor?
for shame?
for you?
for me?
for us?

For what?

For who?

What is this place called Mars Hill Graduate School? I thought I knew. Today, I am not so sure.

In my class, Impact of Abuse, our first assignment was to write a paragraph articulating my sense of calling at this point in my life. What came out on paper was a bit of a surprise to me, but something that I’m very proud of and very interested to see how it develops.

We were then to reflect upon our mission statement with a brief essay. Below is my mission statement and response…

–Personal Mission Statement–

My calling in this broken and fallen world is to fight on behalf of those who have no fight, to speak for those who have no voice, and to hope for those who have no hope. I want to live this mission in daily interaction with my wife and kids, my friends and peers, and my fellow humankind. I believe that this mission will ultimately cost me my life.

–Reflection Essay–

This personal mission has been the culmination of many events in my life that have led me to believe and hope for a future glory. It scares me to death to think of putting myself in the position of carrying a voice and hope that flies in the face of evil; which will surely cost me my life.

Over the past few months I’ve seen the resources and information that is available to me, a white male United States citizen, and realize that ignoring these resources would be a travesty. I am not quite sure as to the specific field of work that I will attend to upon completion of my masters program, but regardless of that choice there will be ample and significant opportunities for me to live out my mission.

What people groups do not have a fight and thus need someone to fight for them? The first group that comes to mind is women and children. As an American society we have bought into the lie that women and children are weaker beings. While this is true from a physical standpoint, I do not believe it is true emotionally and psychologically. There is a great need around the world, but also in our own backyard, to fight for equality and freedom on behalf of women and children. The de-humanization of women and children will only get worse to the point that oppression will enter our lives daily.

In a similar light, the people groups who have no voice are in every country, culture, and family. In addition to the women and children, I specifically see the needs for a voice to be had for the impoverished. Because women and children make up for 80% of the worlds impoverished, this too seems to be too great of a need in the world today for me to bypass and look the other way.

Lastly, and more importantly, my most fervent desire is that I will be able and called to hope for those who cannot hope. I can see this taking place within my family, in my church, in my community, or in the world abroad. We live in a desolate world that hopes for very little, and I want to make it my life passion to call others to the hope for future glory.

We all know about Superbowl Sunday. It’s perhaps the biggest sporting event of the year, and all across the world people will be gathering in front of televisions to watch, cheer, and commune over this game.

But, this morning, I can’t help but to think of today as a Sad day. Perhaps it’s mainly from the context from which I write this morning: Class all weekend on the impact of abuse and oppression, alone at home as my family is gone for 10 days, problems with rodents in the house, and finally the overall load of life (not limited to the preceding examples). But, to be honest, I could have won the lottery yesterday and my view of today being a sad day would likely remain.

Mainly I see the true desires of the US come out in days like today….with the Super Bowl. It’s the culmination of what many Americans (side note: the use of the term American will be the subject for a future topic for me. I can no longer call myself an American in the context that I have readily done so in the past) live for in life. We want big toys, good friends, good drinks, and good experiences. All of these come to meet at thousands of homes across the US today to watch a football game. I don’t know the figures, but the Millions of dollars that is spent for one 4 hour sporting event could likely change the course of history for millions of people world wide.

I understand the need for entertainment and for enjoying life, but at what cost? The United States has the resources to affect millions of people per day, and that end is accomplished every day. Our drive to affect people is so that it’ll keep the economy strong, put more money into the pockets of the rich, and further separate us from the pain of life by padding our bank accounts.

How do I enjoy life and provide for my family, without forgetting about others? These thoughts feel incomplete right now. I want to think more, but am overwhelmed by the need to help those who have no voice.

If we could shrink the Earth’s population to a village of precisely 100 people with all of the existing ratios remaining the same, it would look like this:

- 57 Asians, 21 Europeans, 14 North/South Americans, 8 Africans
- 52 female, 48 male
- 70 non-white, 30 would be white
- 70 non-Christian, 30 Christian
- 89 heterosexual, 11 homosexual
- 59% of the wealth would be in the hands of 6 people, and all 6 of them would be from the US.
- 80 would live in substandard housing
- 70 would not be able to read
- 50 would suffer from malnutrition
- 1 would be near death, 1 would be near birth
- 1 would have a college education
- 1 would have a computer

Source:Impact of Abuse, Nancy Murphy

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us, it is in everyone, and as we let our own light shine, we consciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

-Nelson Mandella