And as one of the children’s books mom gave me for Christmas reads,
God asks, “Can anything make me stop loving you?”
“You wonder how long my love will last?
Watch me speak your language,
Sleep on your earth,
And feel your hurts.
Find your answers on a splintered cross,
On a craggy hill.
That’s how much I love you.”
To the cashier at Wal-Mart tonight, thank you for understanding my tears. What began as a casual how are you turned into so much more as you listened to me.
I casually mentioned that I had to replace quite a bit of personal items since Independence Air lost my luggage. And then you asked where I had flown. What I was doing there. Which made me weep.
And as you scanned my shampoo, conditioner, toothbrush, toothpaste, and other “replacement” items, you smiled as I tried to put into words how wonderful the past four days have been.
But I was overwhelmed. I didn’t know how to tell you that I was dreadfully sick on the way to the airport, that Washington-Dulles was overwhelming, and that the goodbye was soul wrenching. And that since my luggage was lost, my parking ticket was gone as well and so I had to be charged extra for a “lost ticket.”
And of course, you laughed with me when you saw that I was purchasing The Terminal.
Somehow it just fits.
We noticed him lingering near the back of my car, and so I set my alarm and we walked quickly into the restaurant. He slipped in behind us, and we quickly headed to the counter.
After watching him pace in the corner we changed our minds and headed for the door.
You can say it’s intuition, but I think it’s the fact that we both have worked in banks. We know how to smell trouble.
As we drove by, the last customer in the café slipped out the front door, ladened with fresh bread. And we caught a glimpse through the windows.
He was rushing to the counter.
I pray he was only there for soup.
I have had very little sleep, my bags aren’t unpacked from spending the weekend in TN, I have four new books that I want to read right this minute, I have to pack for Atlanta after church (I leave at 2pm today), and I have a thousand things I want to write about.
Alas, time is the enemy.
Suffice to say, I shall write about things soon enough.
P.S. I don’t have a horn. =( I was rounding a curve in the mountains yesterday morning and flew into one of the grand tunnels. And of course I decided to blow my horn like the rest of the folks and discovered that my horn is dead.
After attempting to book a flight with Independence Air for the last two nights, and having my debit card declined each time, I finally called the 1-800 number this evening to settle this matter once and for all.
There was enough money in my checking account, so I knew it had to be some odd, terribly annoying hang up. Well, I discovered what it was. I’ve been typing in the wrong security code. See, the security code on the back of my debit card has almost worn off and the last number is merely a guessing game. I thought I knew what it was, but obviously, I don’t.
So you know what I made the nice lady-who-probably-was-in-a-call-center-in-India-judging-by-her-accent do? I made her try all the numbers until we found one that worked.
And each time I read her a new security number, she would say, “Please read me your card number, ma’am. I need to know your expiration date, ma’am. What is the name listed on your card, ma’am? Please read me your security code, ma’am. Thank you. I will try to process this for you. Independence Air appreciates your business.”
EACH TIME.
And I almost started snorting when she read me the confirmation number. “That would be W as in wetski, L as in lema…”
Wetski? Lema?
I’m from South Carolina, honey. Try W, as in Dubya. Or L, as in lima beans.