​Come Fly with Me

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I have recently become a fan of flying. Well, not the flight exactly, but the ease with which planes allow us to travel across this beautiful country in three hours to see my family in the Midwest. I have calculated the number of flights per day and the number of airports and decided that “Yes”, it really is the safest, quickest way to travel.
I have also mastered the carry-on only for a weekend that easily slips into the overhead compartment allowing me to grab it and go- straight to my destination. I love efficiency and have been able to streamline the process giving me more time and energy at my chosen destination. I am a planner, an organizer, and an on-time person. Flying works for me.
So with the bag rolling at my side, I happily anticipated the wonderful time I was sure I was about to have when I boarded a plane at noon on a Friday. Although the trip would only be four days,  I planned to live the hell out of those days and come home lighter, happier, and soul-filled.
Aside from a few bumps along the way, my flight was uneventful, and my sense of elation grew with every mile. The pilot announced we would land about fifteen minutes early as I settled in for our descent. When suddenly,
“Attention passengers, there is a microburst (a strong wind storm) in Denver, and they are shutting down the airport.”
I felt a little air leave my lungs, and my smile dropped a little as I projected that I would have to wait a bit longer wait to get the hug that awaited me. But what is a few moments longer?
“We were going to circle for 30 minutes until either the airport reopened or “we ran out of gas.” I was sure it would only put us back 15 minutes. But, as the 30-minute marker approached,  once again, the captain said, “We are indeed running out of gas. We will quickly stop in Colorado Springs to refuel and then on to Denver.
I liked the words “quick stop.” I could handle waiting a tad bit longer. I even consoled my brain by reminding myself that they both work until 5:30, so this will work out better anyway. I would still be there by dinner.
The audible groans and sighs from the passengers around me suggested that everyone’s plans were changing, and no one was happy about it.
I was determined not to let this unwanted day affect the rest of my trip. I could have been angry. I could have cried, but would any of those emotions change the events?  No. it didn’t matter. So maybe dinner will be a bit late. I still had three days left.
 I arrived, hungry and tired, to a plate of food on the table. Let the weekend festivities begin.
Days later, I was telling a friend about the trip, and I did not even mention the delay, the stress of being stuck, or the time wasted. I recalled the warm dinner, the beautiful hike, the laughing, and the fun.
“Shit happens,” yet it’s what you do with the inconveniences that speak to the person you are.  I probably could have allowed life and altered plans to ruin the whole weekend, but they were just insignificant things that happened. I chose the high road, the happy place, and as Robert Frost so aptly says, “and it made all the difference.”
How many of us have allowed a change of plans or an unexpected turn to ruin the rest of our day or week? What if you tried a new approach? What if you became the calming, reassuring voice that helped others find their breath too?