We love because He first loved us.
1 John 4:19
It’s freezing rain, the dangerous kind, and very dark and
rather miserable, and we are driving along the 401 at 5:30 in the morning. How ironic, I remark to Ken, that I am now in
a vocational situation where I work from home and normally I would never have
to go out into this kind of weather at all.
Just stay home with the fire on and call it an ice day. Yes, some tea would be nice too. But here I am. The freezing rain doesn’t stop me.
Because of the weather and our decision to give plenty of
time, I’m early to the airport now and the ticket booth hasn’t even opened yet. It will be an extra hour of waiting, standing
in line, before my large bags are checked and I can get through security. So here I am.
And the extra hour of waiting doesn’t stop me.
There’s the normal three hour stint of waiting between
security check and boarding, all the while the weather outside rages. Floor to ceiling windows reveal the lengths
to which everyone is going to help make sure planes can land and take off
safely. With all the plows and salt trucks and crusty
planes going back and forth across my large-widowed view, I confess, it doesn’t
look safe to me. Ice everywhere. I get word that Ken has returned home without
incident and am grateful. Time to board
now. The worrisome view doesn’t stop me.
It takes a while to get final clearance for takeoff. Other planes are delayed, and now so are
we. We wait an hour. But then we are encased with ice ourselves. It’s another hour before we can be de-iced
and get clearance for departure. I’ve
now been ‘traveling’ for 8 hours and haven’t really gone anywhere.
Never mind. All
this sitting around and waiting will be in sharp contrast to the ridiculously
close connection time in Seoul.
What was supposed to be a reasonable two and a half hour
layover now becomes a mad 45 minute dash to de-board, be greeted by Korean Air
ground staff asking for those going to Chiang Mai, get whisked away on a
golf-cart across the multiple kilometres of Terminal 2, be rushed through
security, and then literally run at least another half kilometre to my gate
where, breathless, I arrive just as everyone is boarding. No time for any freshening up, stopping for a
snack, checking in online, going to the bathroom, nothing like that. Just running.
I buckle my seat belt and prepare for takeoff still on an adrenaline
rush. The benefit will come just a
little later when the corresponding dip will help me sleep for most of the five
hours of this flight. I’ll need it.
The plane arrives on time to Chiang Mai. But.
Seems a lot of flights have arrived exactly the same time and I cannot
remember being in a longer line to get through customs. It takes another hour and a half. I make friends with two women travelling to
visit the missionary sister of one of them whose, you won’t believe this, maternal
grandparents were Breithaupts. I’m not
kidding. They’re from Kansas. So, what are the odds? The line-up chit chat and figuring out how we’re
related (how, not if, it’s just a given with the last name
Breithaupt) helps pass the time.
I’m finally through customs and have my bags and have
been appropriately and wonderfully embraced and loaded into the truck and patiently
listened to as I recount the adventure to get here. Probably one of the more challenging trips I’ve
taken here in the past eleven years.
It will provide a great story to tell the children the
next day for our first time together at evening worship. And it will be a reminder again of why I’m
doing this.
I frequently hear comments about how long and difficult
the trip is, even without ice storms and delays. And I was asked not that long ago what would
motivate me to take such a risk as to take on the new responsibilities that are
now my work in Thailand. In the context
in which the question was asked, it was not hard to hear “You’re crazy” as an
unspoken echo at the end of it.
And I guess the truth is, I am. Crazy in love with the kids who listen to me
telling them that nothing within my control could stop me from coming to see
them. I’m more tired and stiff than
usual, but truth is, I don’t mind whatever extra inconveniences might happen
along the way. As long as I can be here
with them. What a gift.
So much love.
Love is courage.
Love is tenacity. Love is
inconvenience and discomfort and sacrifice.
Love covers a multitude of sin.
Love motivates. Love sacrifices
and barely notices, except maybe to be able to record the particulars in a blog
somewhere.
And I remind the children that my trip was nothing
compared to the lengths God went to buy their redemption. February is a month of celebrating love. The greatest risk was motivated by the
greatest love of all.
Let the month of love begin.
I’m here, finally, and it was oh so worth it.
Let the love begin.
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