Lessons in the airport

I am in the Seattle airport, halfway home from a wonderful trip to Alaska. Both ways, I've had some flight changes and mishaps that were quite inconvenient and, in the moment, very frustrating. When my flight landed and I saw the text that I will once again be spending a loong layover in an airport three hours from home (and arriving after midnight), my immediate reaction was anger. I got off the plane and walked briskly through the airport looking very pissed off (at least, I thought​ I did). I talked to the ladies from my airline to try and get a different flight, trying to maintain a demeanor that included kindness and understanding while accurately portraying how annoying my experience has been. Sighing, I got on the phone and huffed aimlessly around while I was on hold.

But then, I hung up. Just as I knew it inevitably would, the foolishness of my extreme reaction became obvious, as did all the countless reasons to be thankful. Most likely my “problems” wouldn't be fixed, and as nice as it would feel to unload on some unwitting employee, that would accomplish nothing (except contribute to my post-tantrum guilt). I decided to make the most of my time in the Seattle airport (which I'd forgotten is actually pretty cool) and let this setback be water under the bridge. Air travel, ironically, is something where people commonly get very upset when flights change or other inconveniences arise. It's stressful because we pay for an expensive service that we expect fulfilled, the day is already busy, sitting and waiting is boring, and the anxious awaiting of the destination often confers a short fuse to the traveler. It's ironic because here I am, with the resources to spend hundreds of dollars on an amazing trip (and this is far from the first flight I've purchased this year), getting mad because I have to spend 4 hours in an airport and go to bed at 2am. God often uses my transient frustrations with flying to remind me to look at the good.

I just spent a perfect week in beautiful and wild Alaska with a dear friend. I'm sporting muddy pants and hiking shoes because we squeezed in some adventuring this morning before my flight. I ate my (wildly unimpressive) dinner in a giant atrium and watched the sun set. I love airports (almost as much as hospitals) and they're exponentially more fun at night. I always appreciate being in public places after normal hours, and kind of getting a picture of the things that go on unseen behind the scenes--and though it's probably not mutual, I always feel a sort of camaraderie with the other people who are stuck like me. There's an endless stream of people to watch, and I just love people. I even got some cardio in, speedwalking down and back the terminals lifting my suitcase off the ground--I got some glances because I looked like a weirdo but who cares! There are water bottle filler-uppers (the technical name) everywhere, which always makes me happy. I found a squishy bench by a squishy wall and an outlet (not squishy). I START PA SCHOOL IN 10 DAYS. Oh also did I mention that I start PA school in 10 days?

I'm actually so glad for my layover tonight (though I feel bad for my poor roommate who has offered to pick me up even though my flight is getting later and later). I'm enjoying this time of being with Jesus, and a zillion interesting people whose stories I really want to know. Maybe I'll go make a friend soon. (I also want to point out that I wrote this entire post on my phone.)

I wanted to write this as a reminder to me, and to you my readers, that life is so much better when we take our thoughts captive, instead of letting emotions rule. God is always happy to provide perspective, and even though those teachable moments are often unpleasant, when we give Him the reins, He imparts joy (and patience) that is unaffected by circumstances.

I'm not invincible

I'm not invincible, though sometimes I like to think I am.

There are certain things that I hold onto tightly, certain parts of my identity, parts that I want to be rock solid and unaffected by external forces. But God is always chipping away at my pride, which is the cement that makes these things so hard to let go of. I don't think the conflict between my desire to surrender to Him and my independent, self-sufficient nature will ever cease (though it will lessen if I continue to yield myself to the Holy Spirit).

The irony is, despite this conflict, I'm so much less self-sufficient than I think.

I apply labels to myself as descriptors and traits to strengthen. Some of them run so deep that they come relatively easily, like my enthusiasm and cheeriness (if you've ever seen me first thing in the morning you know what I mean). Others, while still natural parts of my personality, require more effort to maintain. A lot of the time, I am flexible, confident, bold, and unflappable.

However, these things are not rock solid. They are affected by external forces. You know why? Because I'm a human. I have emotions. I'm not perfect.

It's scary to admit that these traits are not untouchable. They can crack, and they often do. Sometimes it's really hard for me to go with the flow. Sometimes I feel stupid. Sometimes my feelings get hurt (and it always surprises me). God has taught me that I need to give myself grace, and that can be difficult. I want to have just a few qualities that I can rely on, so that I can really be the independent, strong woman I envision. However, I know I live in freedom, without condemnation, only because Jesus took the penalty for me. I am not complete without Him, and the reason I can't rely on my own abilities to be flexible, confident, bold, and unflappable (also cheery and enthusiastic) is because I was created to be reliant on God--not me.

The thing that inspired me to write about this today is my current life transition. I always try to convince myself that each transition will be easier than the last, but it never is. One amazing thing is ending, and another is beginning--and it is bittersweet. Words cannot describe how excited I am to start PA school in 71 days. I can't believe I will actually be STUDYING MEDICINE, after dreaming and imagining it for over a decade. God provided me two wonderful roommates, a good friend will be in the program with me, and I can't wait to get to know all my classmates.

But as my last day at the hospital fast approaches, I am honestly grieving this job's conclusion. I have an incredible team, I love bedside care and really knowing my patients, and I finally feel settled in life for the first time in a long time. I really enjoy all the nursing staff on my unit, and a number of my coworkers have become good friends outside of work. I am so sad to say goodbye to my team, and to know that once school starts I won't have much time, if any, to invest in these dear friendships.

Another pair of labels that I stick on myself (not untrue) are outgoing & relatable. These help me develop rapport with patients, strike up conversations with strangers, and make friends quickly. When I was in college, going from Michigan to Cannon Beach to Guatemala etc and finally returning to Portland, I was able to quickly put down roots in these temporary communities.

Sometimes I think (and wish) that I could uproot just as easily, jaunting to the next place. But these traits crack too, and for me that means painful goodbyes.

I don't know what this year will look like. It has already included many joys and tears, and I'm sure there will be more. But the rest is unknown by me. There's nothing like a major life-uprooting to lead me back to Jesus, and on Him I will rely.