We were all supposed to arrive in Nairobi on the same flight. But, we got separated in the Paris airport. I waited a couple of minutes, but as we were already in danger of missing our flight, I ran, Home Alone style, to the gate and trusted they’d meet me there.
I got to the gate just in time for the final boarding call. There was no sign of my companions. I boarded at the instance of the ticketing agent who warned me that the doors were about to close.
Maybe they were already on the plane. Maybe they beat me there. Maybe a kind airport employee had picked them up on one of the little luggage carts and taken a shortcut to get them to the gate on time.
I searched the plane. They were nowhere to be found.
I heard the door slam and the flight attendants instruct all passengers to take their seats.
I was off to Kenya.
When I arrived in Nairobi, I found out that none of my bags had been checked to my plane. I did manage to contact my companions, who had gotten on another flight scheduled to arrive the next morning. When everyone finally got in, only four of our twelve bags – most of which were filled with donations for the ministry we’re visiting – had made it. We still don’t have the other eight, nor are we entirely certain where they are.
It’s not an adventure if everything goes as planned.
I’ve had a lot of adventures.
Every adventure – every delayed flight, every lost bag, every obstacle – reminds me that I have far less control over my own life than I believe I do.
What I do have control over is how I respond to those obstacles.
I can complain about the unsympathetic ticketing agent that wouldn’t hold the plane, or I can thank God that we all made is safely to Nairobi.
I can grumble about the incompetent employees that lost our luggage, or I can thank God for providing just enough and recognize that I can get by on a lot less than I think I can.
I can let my frustration get the better of me, or I can enjoy the ride.
Every unpredictable minute of it.