This Christmas played out like a classic Christmas for me and my family. However, it was sandwiched between two not-so-classic airport events involving muffins and mice.
As normal, I decided to sleep on the airport floor overnight during my trip home. I awoke to the janitorial staff, who apparently begin cleaning at 1:00am! After getting my bearings, a younger member of the staff kindly informed me that it was not a good idea to sleep on the floor, because the airport was infested with mice.
Sensing my lack of trust, he proceeded to bat his eyes, as if their motion would somehow give him the courage and words to convince me of the truth. He did. He also suggested a good sleeping spot where the chairs had no armrests, allowing someone to sleep off of the floor.
I appreciate this kind of sincere honesty, even if it comes with little tact. So I thanked this gentleman and slept well as a result of his candor.
After a quick layover at my favorite airport (it has birds and a cool fountain), I arrived at my destination. I usually attempt to sneak up behind my greeting party to surprise them, but I was able to do so this time.
I could fill pages with the nostalgic details of this Christmas, but will limit the account since I wish to highlight the surrounding events. As a family, we
- Participated in the Living Nativity together
- Shopped for each others’ gifts together
- Watched movies together (Tangled, Bolt, Kung Fu Panda, Blind Side)
- Bowled together
- Ate together
- Had philosophically deep breakfast conversation together
- Opened gifts together for a whole day
- And generally had fun with each other as close family members do. (I particularly recall me dancing with one sister to wake up another.)
It was peculiarly hard to leave the family at the airport this Christmas. I think our family escapes the awkwardly sad moments of separation by quickly brushing over them and moving on. I felt we all might have been guilty of that when we hugged and went our separate ways.
Upon arriving once again at my favorite layover airport, I realized that I could not fulfill my tradition of eating a classic Cinnabon on flying trips.
They didn’t have a Cinnabon!
So, I settled for Starbucks.
I went up to the sweet cashier and asked her for a blueberry, raspberry, cranberry muffin. She presented me with what looked like a different kind of muffin. Slightly confused, I displayed the muffin and graciously asked her if it was a blueberry, raspberry, cranberry muffin. She said, “No,” mumbled some excuse about not being able to find my type of muffin, and then found it.
People will fail me in small ways, like presenting me the wrong muffin, and in larger, more significant ways. I’m glad I know one Person I can trust in everything. Man looks on the outward appearance, but God looks on the heart.