Seasons of transition often remind me of long layovers in airport terminals. For a pocket of time, we're aliens in a city that is neither home nor our destination. We've made progress on our trip, but we still have much more to travel. We're in passage, in transit, in stationary motion. We stand looking out from the airport window at the planes taxing the runway, touching down for landing, or taking off into the sunset. We long for the next leg of our journey, but as we glance at the ticking clock on the sterile wall, we know time is forcing us to wait.
People are in constant activity all around us, walking hurriedly from one gate to another. They've come from all points of the world: Dallas, Cairo, Amesterdam, Paris, Katmandu, London, Los Angeles. Like colored markers crisscrossing lines on a blank sheet of paper, the crowds intersect at various gates throughout the terminal. Some are carrying small children on shoulders, others are sporting Armani suits or BCBG handbags. Families huddle close for comfort, while the lone traveler listens to alternative beats flowing through little white earbuds. All are participants in this game of air travel, and each must bide his time in the waiting zone.
Upon arrival at our gate, we find an available chair, plunk ourselves down, and begin the tortuous session of waiting. We try to amuse ourselves with people-watching, reading, and listening to our IPods, but as time drags on, we get restless, figety, and bored. Depending on how many time zones our bodies have already crossed during our journey, we may become irritable. Now sleep deprived and disoriented from international travel, we begin to lose perspective. Tempted to grumble and complain, we keep our distance from other travelers. All we want is to leave, to get back on our journey, to make progress towards our destination.
It is at this moment of weariness and anxiety that we are given the choice to maintain a good attitude. Our plane will leave at the desingated time whether we are cheerful or sullen during the layover. However, the process of our journey and the value we extract from it depends on the attidude we choose to maintain. The trip can be fun and exciting, or loathsome and annoying. Our attitude in the waiting makes all the difference.
During a layover, the only thing we control is our attitudes and behaviors. We don't decide when our plane arrives or departs and we don't choose our gate number. We're at the mercy of the airport and airline governance. We're on their turf, and we can rest assured they are doing their best to move us safely from departure to destination.
In life's transition seasons, the rules of the game are not much different. Sometimes, we find ourselves sitting in blue plastic chairs waiting for our scheduled departure time. Since certain things are out of our hands, it is with enduring patience and trust we place ourselves in the hands of the Father. He's working things out for us, scheduling our incoming and outgoing flights, directing our steps, and orchestrating the minutest details of our journey. We can bide our time in the airport terminal in peace and joy, or we can make ourselves miserable with frustration and anxiety. It's up to us to choose how we spend our time in this confined season of life.
Inevitably, the hands of the clock draw closer to the designated time for departure. Our plane taxies onto the runway in front of our gate. The wide doors to the walkway open, and an attnedant's voice beeps in over the intercom. "Ladies and Gentelemen, flight 787 to the next season in your life has now arrived. We will be boarding in 5 minutes." Smiling with relief, we gather our belongings and make our way to the front of the gate. Tired and expectant, we take our place in line. The attendant reaches out for our ticket, tears it, and returns the stub to us. "Welcome aboard," she glances at us, "Enjoy your flight." We adjust our carryon and take the first steps onto the walkway leading us to the next flight of our journey. Our waiting season has come to an end, and now it's time to fly.