After all the excitement of last weekend and the ordination service, I went to the next thing.

Because our eighth grandchild had arrived and it was so very important for me to meet him. And to see his three year old brother!  And it has been wonderful  to have those infant snuggles and hang out with a very fun three year old boy who loves bubbles and cars.

Getting here was another story all together.

As some you know… I am not fond of flying. And yes, I’ve written about it before. So I have to reach into my storehouse of courage and tell myself it’s no big deal.

And truly, I was doing fine. I had managed to have an uneventful first leg to Calgary, to find out my next flight was already boarding, and although I didn’t get the food I needed, managed a bathroom break.

I managed the long flight to Toronto, sitting beside a nervous passenger, and thought I was calmer than she even though we endured patches of rather severe turbulence.

I survived landing in Toronto and managed to ask directions for immigration where a volunteer told me the system was new and complicated and she hoped I would do all right. What choice did I have? So after what seemed like a dozen checkpoints and showing my boarding pass and passport I was deemed safe to enter the States.

I found my gate, bought some food, and finally relaxed.

This was not a good idea.

I looked at my phone some time later thinking we should be boarding… And to my horror, the destination had vanished from the gate. I checked the monitors to find my gate had changed, and when I asked someone they said, oh that is WAY down… the end of this corridor. So I began to run… convinced I had missed my plane.

Dishevelled some ten minutes later I arrived at my destination… And after some brief discussion,  I determined my plane had not left. In fact it was late!  I sat down, collected myself, made some new friends with women who had pity on me… And we waited…

The attendant came out…

Another delay. After inspection, the plane’s wheel needed replacing…they had to wait for a part… And another hour went by.

Hugging my grandchildren before bedtime was no longer a reality…

So finally, we were allowed on the plane. Weary travellers happily storing luggage and buckling up… And then a weird thing happened. Two passengers abruptly left the plane without explanation. The attendant called out to them,  it to my knowledge they just left… And we could see immediately this created a dilemma for the crew.

After lots of huddled consulting we were finally told they would have to account for all the bags on the plane. We cooperated. More conversation.

We were all asked to get off the plane. It was completely searched.

I was finished. I really did not want to get back on the plane. But what choice did I have?

The crew thanked everyone for their patience and deemed the plane safe for flying. But I happened to overhear a conversation between our attendant and another concerned passenger. The attendant said no..he had never experienced this situation before. And he personally had checked the plane carefully to see if anything had been left behind.  Because we were flying near the nations capital there seemed to be a higher risk. And although the B word was never used, he casually mentioned that these things tend to go off upon descent if they are going to.

I wished I was deaf. I wondered if these were my last moments. And with my great imagination I prepared myself for the end. Although I have great faith where I am going!!!

But I hated being alone. And I prayed would make it to my destination.
I read the Psalms and prayed for all of us.

And then… We arrived. Late, but in one piece. No pun intended.

I said once that I would face my fears and fly… For I knew of a grandmother who didn’t see her grandchildren for years because of an ocean that separated them. So I have diligently collected air miles and talked bravely.

And I tell myself… And believe it too… that being with family is worth it all. Although I am considering renting a car and driving back…

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