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Waiting in the Wings

Whether you love or hate them, airports are captivating places. It seems like waiting is the only thing anyone ever gets done. With nothing to do and nowhere to go before your zone number is called, you either reread last night’s texts or you just sit there like a vegetable and stare. It’s impossible not to notice a million things about those in the crowd of strangers around you and you smile when you happen to glance up and catch someone’s eye. You know the odds are good that you’ll never see any of these people again but you can’t help but wonder where they’re from, where they’ve been, or where they’re going. You feel some kind of deep-rooted respect and reverence because there is so much living going on, so many journeys being taken physically, emotionally, spiritually — and you’re not only in the middle of it, you’re contributing to it.

Beyond the gates, beyond the blue, everyone is waiting. I’ll bet some don’t even know what for. Maybe they’re waiting because that’s all they’ve ever known, waiting for something to happen… anything at all. Some are content, some are entirely discontent. Some love waiting because it gives them something to hang on to, something to keep the gears turning in their minds. Some are tired of waiting because they don’t know what’s beyond the gates but they’re still curious as to what’s out there, they’re still searching for something. Maybe some are so busy waiting, they forget what indescribable beauty is right there in front of them.

If you sift through as many airports as I do, you’ll agree the process becomes formulaic and dull pretty fast. Sometimes you’d just as soon forget where you are and where you’re going for a moment because, “if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ‘em all.” Waiting for a delayed flight is just as tiresome in Copenhagen as it is in Shanghai, Dallas, Manila or Perth, but that’s no reason to wish the time away. Sometimes I long to fast forward five to ten hours at a time so I could JUST GET THERE ALREADY, and that’s when I realize the ability would be nice, but it’s not a daydream I’m proud of. The last thing I want to do is wish my life away, be it a device to eclipse exhaustion, fatigue, apathy or otherwise. These days are FAR too valuable and I cannot plan which one will be my last. With that outlook, each day, hour and minute is suddenly VERY precious. I must be thankful even for the dull moments because the reality is that I could pass into eternity tonight, next week, six months from now or in fifty years. I need to appreciate the time I’ve been given because that time is not something I can count on. It will elapse at some point and when I look back at the life I’ve just lived, what will I think of it? I don’t want to cross the finish line and feel the tiniest hint of disappointment.

It’s easy to plan. It’s not hard to expect. It’s easy to intend things to fall into place, give or take some heartache along the way.

My plans are common. I want to work hard, immerse myself in what I’m most passionate about. I want to create art, send a message of hope out into the world, I want to inspire others. Most of all, I long to draw a pure reflection of what I’m living for and Who claims my life, my strength, and my all. I want to meet a lovely girl, win her heart, fall in love and get married. I want to start a family someday, have a good retirement, play a little golf, take my grandkids fishing, THEN maybe I’ll be into the idea of my days being numbered. Of course I’m being a bit facetious. Sometimes I’d just as soon put the idea of death as far from me as possible, but of course, I am not the one to decide when my time is up. I can’t keep it at bay with a ten foot pole. An appointment book has been made and my appointments WILL BE KEPT whether I like it or not. The beauty is that I don’t have to be afraid.

What gets me is the way my knees dig into the back of the seat in front of me when the bird finally crests the clouds. It keeps me awake and that’s when I can’t help but wonder where the girl sitting next to me is from, what sort of book the guy two rows ahead is reading, or if the pretty flight attendant with the pony tail has anyone waiting for her back home, wherever that is.

And then the plane lands and I’m out of there. Sometimes I’m walking away, glad to be back on the ground, but wishing I would’ve found a deeper appreciation for the journey itself, rather than focusing only on the destination.

And then in the hotel room, sometimes I stare into the mirror and it’s like I’m looking into the eyes of a familiar stranger. Not in a sad or lonely way, just from a thoughtful, pensive angle. Who is that person? What is he thinking? What is he holding on to? Where does he put his trust? Where is his refuge? What is he really living for?

Sometimes it’s a friendly reminder… sometimes it’s a sobering reality check.

That’s when I realize I’m tired of waiting. I’m so sick of wishing I was there already. I’d rather look around and not have to squint to see the beauty that literally lies everywhere.

Just for a second, forget your weekend plans, forget what’s in the books, forget your date on Friday night, forget how crazy the world is and how you just want to be there already. Things can change in a split-second and sometimes you have no idea what you’ve got until it’s gone. Sometimes life is not about the destination, but about the journey designed to take you there.

Whether things are happy or life is hard, there is SUCH divine beauty all around, and I suppose in a manner of speaking, “the trick is to see it.”

A Switchfoot lyric appropriately comes to mind:

“This is your life, are you who you want to be?”

I Can Totally Relate To This: REBLOGGED

Everything Reminds Me of You

On September 27th, 2010 by Adam Young

Dizzy.

That’s how you feel when you run into a significant other you haven’t seen in a long time. A bitter avalanche of icy memories plows into your chest at breakneck speed, stealing the very breath from your lungs. Gasping for air, there’s really no use fighting it; the blow is instantaneous and it’s overpowering. Your eyes land on this person, your heart immediately stops dead, your knees go weak and you internally panic. You force yourself to walk over, but before either of you say hello, you’ve already got an endless amount of things you secretly want to say and an equally lengthy list of questions you wish you could ask.

What affection the two of you once shared was absolutely beautiful, consequently rendering any unanticipated meetings thereafter twice as awkward. But as everyone always reminded you, life has a way of operating, God has a mysterious way of working, and sometimes things change without a moment’s warning. Even after it was all said and done, it’s still hard to imagine how things could’ve ever evolved from “always” to “never” in what seemed like a single dramatic heartbeat.

Months and months later, you run into this particular person unexpectedly and the realization hits you like a brick wall. The pain is still there. It’s almost as painful as the night you said goodbye. Enough time has passed to con you into thinking you’ve begun to heal, and of course you probably have, but then you see this person and suddenly those old familiar aches begin to hurt all over again. You were finally beginning to mend after what happened, the relationship withered and ended, however dramatically, but the moment you lock eyes with this person you once shared so many dreams with, your stomach turns and a bitter taste fills your mouth. You can barely breathe. Half of you aches for things to be the way they once were, the other half longs to forget the whole thing ever happened. Regardless of your role in the conclusion of the relationship, it left you shattered and bringing it up after all this time would only pour another dose of potent heartbreak for both of you.

So there you are, standing face-to-face, unsure of what to say aside from the typical small talk jabber. A myriad of emotions swirl through both your heads but they only make former lovers more confused. Maybe you hug an awkward I-haven’t-seen-you-in-forever gesture, but that familiar mixed scent of perfume and cologne makes it even more impossible to know how to act, brief as the impending conversation inevitably will be. You just can’t stop thinking “things will never be the way they used to be” and that’s what hurts most. You both know where your identities lie, Who ultimately claims your hearts and where your fortresses are… and those things are truly what matter most, but this unforeseen meeting is still severely painful and there’s no denying that. It keeps you both awake for nights.

As healing as it is, you can only drive around at night listening to The Swiss Army Romance so many times.

This is me being honest. I tossed and turned a lot last week. I thought about someone so much it was unhealthy.

So here’s hoping I fall asleep easier tonight if I send a simple message out into the void:

Girl,

I still care about you. I think about you all the time. I’m praying for you constantly. I want so badly to know you’re being taken care of. I wish you the best in life, not because you’ll surely find it, but because you deserve it. You deserve so much.

I just wish you knew how much I miss you.

Adam