Giving it to God...at the Airport

I'll try to keep this concise...

Today a good friend of mine was traveling and sent me a text message in response to me wishing her safe travels. As with any international flight, there was a long leg of the trip she expressed grief over. It made me think back to when I was in college.

Soon after my sophomore year of college began, my family relocated from 4 hours driving away to 4 hours flying away. Needless to say I began a stretch of time where I was traveling fairly regularly to visit on breaks. It was during that part of my life standing in O'Hare Airport often with two flights and a layover ahead of me (2 flights are cheaper than 1 ironically), that I learned to give things up to God.

Some would argue I was giving up to which ever airline I was flying that day, but in hindsight I think I was giving up to God. I realized talking to the ticket agents and flight attendants that these men and women completely determined if I was going to get where I wanted when I wanted. The harder I fought, the less likely things were going to improve. I also realized, simply by watching other disgruntled travelers, that yelling, pouting, screaming and threatening the airline employees would not make the delays shorter, the flights quicker or the weather more clear. It got to the point where I would prepare for the whole day to be consumed with travel, sometimes more than one day.

My goal was to get to my destination. And, that was as complex as it got - I removed time and comfort from the equation. I paid a significant amount of money to a company to get me from Point A to Point B, and with that exchange of money I transferred all control and responsibility. I was to simply show up and do my best to not become emotionally involved in the process.

Looking back I think I was learning to give things up to God. I give God my life and try not to get too emotionally involved in the process, and God gets me from Point A to Point B on God's schedule on God's route with and without weather delays.

How does your travel habits reflect your relationship with God?

My New Gas Grill

My new toy. I've had it for a while, but they shorted me a screw. So, that got it put on the backburner until I could get to Home Depot and time to finish it. Well, that time came a night or two ago. Now, I just need to christen it. Hmmm...chicken, brats, steaks...tough decisions ahead. Any suggestions?

Labels

Everywhere you go you hear people talking about labels. In the office there is training on not labeling people through stereotypes. Don't make jokes about ethnicity or race. When you go to the bars your friends tell you don't judge the person on their looks, all the good looking ones may not be as good looking in the morning. Or, when you're shopping, just because the guy looks better than you doesn't mean he's gay, maybe he's metro.

No matter what their are assumptions. If they're one religion, they must think this. If they're wearing that, they must be this. If this, than that! And, truth be told that isn't always true.

But still we fight that battle.

All labels and stereotypes stem from narrow-mindedness and even ignorance. At least all of the labels I've dealt with in my life. I had a REALLY bad haircut in high school. At the time it seemed practical and nobody close to me said otherwise. Needless to say in a short amount of time I was labeled a dyke. Ah, the joys of adolescence.

Since then, I've lost that one; but due to the quirks of a small town, I'll never lose others. And for that, I'll probably always avoid situations that force me to be seen with them. I struggle at even entering the Wal-Mart in my home town because I want to be me.

I will never shake:
-"Mike's daughter"
-"LeRoy's granddaughter"
-"Spaz" from high school
- or the other numerous pronouns used instead of Elizabeth when spotted in western Wisconsin.

I love where I grew up. And, I understand the trials that everyone must face with hometowns, families, race, religion, high school, sexuality, etc, etc, etc. But, I look for opportunities to further define myself. I love walking through that hometown Wal-Mart; when someone recognizes me (which rarely happens with the hair makeover) and asks, I tell them about the life I've made for myself in the Chicagoland.

What labels have you been given, and what do you do about them? Personally, I like avoidance, but not with out correcting them when the opportunity presents itself.