A little help from the guy upstairs

I traveled to New York City Sunday morning for work.  It was a good trip and maybe I'll share more details in a subsequent post.  I thought my plane left at 11:30AM this morning.  Last night at dinner I asked a gentleman with us, who is from New York, what time I should leave in order to catch an 11:30 flight at La Guardia and he advised 9:30AM.  I bumped that up thirty minutes, considering how much I hate to be rushed at the airport and that I had 90 ounces of breastmilk to be examined, and I left my hotel promptly at 9:00AM. 

While I was sitting in the taxi and stuck in traffic, I started questioning the fact that my flight home left at the same exact time as my flight out there.  So I reviewed the flight details on my phone again and realized that my plane left at 10:10, not 11:30!!!  Insert panic.  I texted Josh and emailed my mom and asked them both to begin praying that I would make my flight. I spent the rest of the taxi ride praying for short security lines, a quick examination of my breastmilk, a nearby gate, and most importantly, that I would make my flight.  It wouldn't have been the end of the world to miss it but I didn't feel like spending the day in La Guardia and was very anxious to get home to my babies. 

I arrived at the airport at 9:40 and ran from the taxi without getting my receipt (hopefully Target won't need it for expense reimbursement).  When I did the self check-in, it wouldn't let me check a bag because it was too close to departure.   I had too many bags, though, to carry onto the flight. I had my suitcase, my pump, my purse, and a rather large bag with my laptop and two coolers full of frozen milk.  A Delta employee came over and asked if  needed any help.  I explained that my flight was leaving in less than 30 minutes and had already started boarding and that I couldn't check a bag but had too many to carry on....  He suggested trying to 'hide' a bag behind my back from the security and the attendant at the gate but didn't think it was likely they'd let me through.  Then he brought me to security where there was a massive line.  The kind man brought me straight to the front of the line and told the woman checking tickets and IDs, "I have a late one".  She gave me the side-eye and asked him, "Did you make her late or is she just late?".   "I made her late".  I almost wanted to kiss him.  She let me through (and didn't mention my extra luggage!) and then he brought me to the front of the line for the conveyor.  I apologized to all of the shoeless folks I just cut it front of and piled my stuff onto the line. 

After I walked through, I waited for them to stop the conveyor, ask whose bag this is, and examine my milk.  I have been on, probably, 8-10 business trips while carrying breastmilk, as I traveled frequently in my last position when I was nursing Claire. As is their protocol, they examine my milk every time, without fail.  This usually requires running the bag or bottle past a little light and rubbing it with a cotton swab (I have always wondered how this test works).  After each bottle or bag is tested, they run the entire cooler back through the conveyor line.  It can take 5-10 minutes when I have only 20-40 ounces on me, and today I had over 90 ounces.  So I was shocked when my cooler made it through the line without stopping!!  (And I quickly questioned why they didn't follow their process but that thought was fleeting). 

I put my shoes back on, shoved my laptop into my bag, and took off running for the gate.  I realized again just how out of shape I am.  I made it to the gate and the attendant gave me a disapproving look, but didn't say a word when I lugged my four bags along with me down to the plan.

My seat was in row 30, all the way towards the back of the plane.  As I walked to my seat, I saw overhead bin after overhead bin that were packed full with luggage.  When I reached row 30, I kid you not, I found one sole open space in the overhead bin directly above my seat. 

After I shoved my suitcase into the last open spot, I sat in my seat and could barely contain the tears of gratitude for having just barely made my flight.  I fully believe that God answered my, Josh's, and my mom's prayers. 

No, it certainly wasn't a life or death situation and I obviously would have survived just fine had I missed my flight. But I wanted to get home to spend the beautiful afternoon with my children whom I missed so dearly, and everything happened in just the right way to make it possible.

Thanks, God.  You're pretty cool.