Yesterday, my perspective was changed, not by my own doing... but luckily God doesn't mind dragging us kicking and screaming when He has to.
It began when I woke up and checked into my flight yesterday morning. For some reason I felt compelled to change from an aisle seat to a window seat, and since the change was free, I went for it. Later on I found out that I actually gave up my seat near 3 of the girls I was traveling with, so I was a little disappointed, but I was still excited about my window seat. (Side bar: flying from Vegas is actually the most beautiful flight that I have EVER been on).
When I got to my seat, a couple was already sitting in the B and C seats, and after the short and sweet introductions they shared that they were returning from caring for the man's dying mother. Honestly, I groaned on the inside, knowing that this would likely turn into a vent session. Yup, that selfish thought ran through my mind, as it often does, because when people hear that I am a psych major, they often have this COMPULSION to share EVERYTHING with me. The problem was that they didn't know I was a psych major, they were just being real with me.
Anyway, to avoid having to listen to their problems, I plopped my headphones in and did more "important" things, like deleting and editing pictures on my phone. I was tired after all, and it was fine to just want to relax, right? I tried to rationalize away the desire to talk to them that was tugging at my heart. I figured that if I quickly uttered that I would pray for them as we grabbed our carry ons and rushed off of the plane, my "Christian duty" would be done for the day.
If you are still reading this, I hope you are disgusted by my behavior as I am at this point.
This is me with my reading glasses on. I was focusing too much on MYself, worrying about how tired I was, so I decided to try to sleep. Sleep usually comes VERY easily to me on a plane, but for some reason, I could not for the life of me turn my brain off. I begin to wonder if maybe I sat in THAT seat for a purpose. If maybe I COULDN'T sleep for a reason. I decided to lean over to my seat mates and strike up a conversation.
This is where I take my reading glasses off. The world's initially a little fuzzy, and I'm not too keen on my task at hand, but I stick with it.
Once I got them talking, they didn't stop, and that was OKAY. We talked about the man's dying mother, about the woman's dead parents, about my passed loved ones. We talked for 2 hours straight, with barely enough time to breathe. At times they were both talking to me about different things.
It was crazy.
It was overwhelming.
It was raw.
It was real.
It was beautiful.
Here were these complete strangers who were so willing to be honest and real and open in the best possible way. I watched as a grown man cried at the thought of losing his mother and as he winced at the mention of her poor condition. His wife glancing first at him and then at me and whispering, "I worry about him and all of this stress" [He has PTSD from a very traumatic event]. I saw real honest emotion, coming from two of the most real people I now know. We, mostly they, talked and talked and talked.
The most incredible thing though, was that the whole time they talked about their problems, the focus was never about themselves. It was on their children, their community, their family, anything but themselves. Every story has some sort of application for me like, "You keep your nose in those books..." or "You help those who need a hand whenever you can..." They shared wisdom and tips on how to rely on your friends and faith, how to practically love your neighbor, and how to never take for granted every blessing that you have. At one point the woman looked at me as she spoke about the MANY hardships that she has recently endured and remarked quite simply, "When life throws you a curve, you either dodge it or you try to catch it."
As the plane began to descend, I took down their names to pray for them (the mom's name is Betty so please pray for her) and gave them my contact information.
At the end of the flight the man looked at me and said that he knew I was sent by God to sit with them on the flight. The woman added that all they wanted was for someone to be kind to them in their hurt. They thought it was ironic that they sat next to a psychologist, and I quickly I reminded them that I didn't have a degree. The man's reply is something that will likely stick with me forever, "I think you are more than qualified by God."
They had nothing but encouraging words about my past upbringing ("You hug your mom and tell her she did an amazing job") and my future career (which they only learned about AFTER they shared everything). It seemed like everything they complimented me on was the exact OPPOSITE of my behavior for the first half of the flight for example, "You could have put your headphones in and just ignored us, but instead you chose to be kind." I was glad to be able to help them, but it seemed like each compliment was another blow to my heart, reminding me of just how selfish I had been.
I got off the plane expecting to feel sky high, full of encouragement and praises. Instead I felt torn, on the one hand I was glad that God was able to speak through me to these people, but I also felt incredibly guilty: in my selfishness I almost didn't help them. I was too focused on the here and now to see these people in desperate need of the heart salve that I always carry with me: the Love of Christ.
I praise God that I didn't miss THIS chance to minister to these hurting people, but I cringe at the thought of how many chances I have let pass me by. If I want to help the hurting people of the world I don't need to have a fancy degree or charge $100 an hour. I can start with the people all around me: the ones that just "happen" to cross my path when they need His words the most. After all, I'm qualified by God to do just that.
Today there are a few things that are the subject of most of my prayers:
1) The man and woman
2) Betty
3) This song, that I hope is not only catchy lyrics, but also the deepest desire of my heart.
