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Monday, September 6, 2010

Waiting on God, Part 3 - reaching the hospital

Compared to DFW or even Love Field, the Birmingham, Alabama Airport isn't very big, but to me the corridor seemed awfully long as I headed toward the exit to the baggage claim area. Nearing the escalator I heard someone call my name. Looking around, I expected to see my brother Nat or sister-in-law Angel; so it took me a moment to register a familiar but unexpected face. Marty Hoven, family friend, gave me a big hug and said he was there to get me to the hospital. He asked if I had any bags and when I said yes he looked concerned and said "I hope it's not very big cause I'm in a two-seater."  I was more worried about whether or not my bag would be on the plane since I had changed flights.

We got to the claim area and checked to see if any unclaimed bags were left from the previous flight. No, but that was good because it meant they had likely been put on the next flight to Birmingham, which should be this one. So we waited. Again, I did not, could not, wait patiently. To make matters worse, my phone was dead and I couldn't call Angie. I was glad Marty was so calm because I was on the verge of panic. After what seemed like forever, but was surely no more than fifteen minutes or so the luggage from flight 984 began sliding through the curtain. I watched anxiously as the bags slid by me. Marty waited anxiously to see how big a bag I had. It seemed everyone else in the claim area had gotten their bag when mine finally came through the line. I hauled it off the belt and we headed out, Marty sizing it up as we walked. We stepped out of the airport into a sky heavy with dark clouds and air thick with humidity. After getting off on the wrong level the first time, we finally made it to Marty's little red Mazda Miata. His concern was well-placed, but just as everything else in my life falls into place when I place my trust in Jesus, my bag fit into the trunk like a glove.

As I settled into the car, I looked at my watch for what must have been the millionth time that day. It was about 4:30. It had been six hours since Hunter had gone into surgery to remove the tumor from his brain. Would I make it there before he woke up? It was raining steadily as we exited the parking deck and headed out to the freeway. Being in a small car, in five o'clock traffic in the rain, I was glad Marty was a cautious driver. As badly as I wanted to reach the hospital quickly, I still had enough presence of mind to know it was more important to get there safely. We chatted some, but I mostly looked out at the gray, gloomy weather. "Thank you Lord for getting me here. Thank you for Marty and his little red car. Get us to the hospital safely Father and help me to stay calm. I trust you Jesus, but please, no more delays!"

Finally we reached Children's hospital. As we took the crosswalk from the parking deck I tried to remember the last time I had been there. It must have been when Lissa had her tonsils out. After thirteen years I knew a lot of things had changed, but it all seemed strangely familiar. We got to the the waiting area where Marty had left Angie and Tommy, but it was locked. Just as he was trying to call them, Tommy's niece Brittany showed up to lead us through the maze of hallways to the surgical waiting area. I cannot describe how relieved I was to finally see my daughter. I didn't even  put down my bags, I just hugged her. Not too long, because neither of us wanted to start crying, but long enough. I looked around at all the many faces of family and friends. So many people there to support Hunter and Angie and Tommy. So much love. So much faith. Faith in each other, faith in the doctors and medical staff, faith in the hospital. Mostly though, in the face of so much uncertainty, faith in a God of awesome power and incomprehensible mercy. Alone, we can never love enough, believe enough, be strong enough, be skilled enough, or care enough. But when we put our faith in a God like this, whose love and faithfulness and power and wisdom and compassion and grace are so much more than we can comprehend, it will always be enough to see us through. We trust you Jesus to always be with us wherever we are, so we are always in your presence, right where we are supposed to be.

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