So goodbye number 4 (the final frontier) has come and gone. The four days we spent together were perfect, but saying goodbye a fourth time was devastating. I cried the whole time waiting for my first flight. I managed to suck it up while on the plane, but the next airport found me bawling in the bathroom. I dried my tears, but new ones kept falling as I slowly made my way to the proper terminal. By no strange coincidence, I passed by the chapel on the way to my connecting flight's gate. It was a small room with posters, religious books, candles, and a guest book. I didn't sign in. I sat down and cried some more. I let it all out, put my head in my hands, sobbed big heavy sobs, and just let myself be sad.
I soon dried my face and left the chapel to continue towards my gate. Though the tears were gone, my mood still wasn't anything pretty. I felt crabby and slighted. I stopped at a shop on the way to see if I could bribe myself into feeling better. Since I collect piggy banks from travels, I looked for one from this state. I found a cute one and then looked for something to nibble on. My stomach was empty and growling and probably contributing to my foul mood. While trying to choose a drink, a woman came up to me and started talking about the pig I had in my hands. She asked where I got it and how much it cost. We struck up some small chat, mostly about her two grand kids and how she wanted to surprise each of them with a piggy bank. She didn't start quoting Scripture or say anything profound enough to get me to stop being pissy, but suddenly I was. I'm not sure what it was about her that seemed to calm me. Maybe her sweet demeanor. Maybe her desire to do something nice for her little ones. Maybe just the fact that she dared to talk to me even though I was scowling like an Angry Bird. Whatever the reason, she came to me at just the perfect time, and her kindness blew away (at least temporarily) the heavy cloud hanging over my head.
The next few days continued to be tough, putting on smiles in public when I just wanted to stay home and be sad. I forced myself to be human and socialize, and it surprisingly turned out to be well worth it. I had a blast celebrating my 30th birthday with a great group of friends, but a piece of my heart still ached to be celebrating with CK. On my actual birthday, I went to a family dinner at my mom's. The idea was nice, but I was still hurting. She sent me to the store to pick up a few ingredients. My mood was much like the airport mood of a few days prior: foul and unapproachable. Yet during my checkout, the bagger went out of his way to smile at me, greet me, and ask me how my day was going. It was so simple, probably even a part of his job, but his genuinely positive attitude touched me. For just a few seconds, I forgot my own pain and enjoyed a moment of optimism. Everything was going to be OK.
I am convinced that those people were put in my path for a reason. Complete strangers brought me comfort in a moment when no friend's or family member's kind words were working, probably because I was stubbornly clinging to my own pain. Lord, I am so thankful that You can still find ways to reach me when I am closed off and focused on myself. Please help me remember Your promises and to cling instead to the hope that You offer. Please shift my focus, and use me to show others the light of Your love.
No comments:
Post a Comment