The plane is hanging out at the gate for an indefinite period of time. Like me. But at least it is here. Like me.
I’m still sitting in the airport and I’m not annoyed. If that’s not evidence of spiritual growth, I don’t know what is.
I followed all the rules today: I packed my luggage light and careful, I allowed for plenty of transit time, and I arrived at my gate an hour before takeoff.
But nothing I do can control the weather or airplanes, which is why, two hours later, I’m still on land, and assuming the third announced delay is the final one*, it’ll be just another hour before I’m off the ground.
“Just another hour,” and somehow that’s okay with me.** I’ve got books to read, music to hear, people to watch, and words to write. What more could I want, except to be on my flight?
Another time, I might say “a lot.” But in this moment I’m able to be okay with what is, and that’s a gift I don’t take for granted.
*It wasn’t the final delay announcement.
**It was another two hours.
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