I find myself praying.

 For the man in the airport who offered the older man that was sitting beside me and looked lonely and hungry something to eat and was scolded by him, backing away with hands raised as if he were in full surrender. I prayed for the loneliness and hurt of the older man's heart, or whatever pain it was that filled the cracks of his person that created such a hateful response to such a love filled offer. I hope he finds softness and love. I hope his spirit finds rest from the strife that was written all over his face. I prayed for the man who so was precious to offer, that he know this rejection wasn't a reflection of him or his offer but a projection of the rejector's spirit. I prayed he knew to pray for him. I prayed he was immediately filled with peace knowing he hadn't done anything wrong, but that going forward he'd be directed on his steps if he felt lead to offer to people in groups again ... that maybe he would offer to the group as a whole instead as to preserve the dignity of the hungry. These things are so touchy and our spirits want to judge situations like these quickly, when really we should consider the human condition and how our judgements can inspire the future of the souls impacted by need. 

Right now I'm praying for the guys beside and behind me who are waiting on the same flight to Philly who are watching NFL football on their phones and seem to need to have a play by play across the back of the station wagon-like adjoining seats about how many men are on the field for the Giants. FOR THE LOVE. ?.. Just as I finished the sentence they stopped talking. Jesus hears our prayers, people. 

The older man just asked me so sweetly to watch his bag as he walked to the restroom. I smiled at him and he looked as though it was the first smile he had seen all day. The sweetest eyes, y'all. Oh, I melted. A feeble thank you and he was gone. I love him. I hope I get to know him more before I get to Philly. 

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Fast forward to Philly and here I sit waiting to board flight number two writing about how God answered my prayer about getting to know the precious man I'd been praying for. I DID get to know him right before I boarded my (tiny) little plane to Philly, and oh my stars that man warmed my heart all the way to the moon. He had flown down to Georgia for his granddaughter's bat mitzvah in Columbus (which he said was a long boring drive away from Atlanta, and I agreed.) He was headed back to Philly with, get this, the crowd behind him who had been offering him food earlier! They were his family! Or so it seemed. At least they were all traveling in tow with one another. When we parted ways he left me with the sweetest smile and the most sincere, "I wish you all the best in the world." I returned both and walked to the line with tears in my eyes and praise in my heart, thanking God for answering yes to that tiny little prayer. 

I had been completely wrong about the entire first situation, but I wouldn't change a single thing about the attention I paid to that situation. What I realized, though, is that God deals in specificity and doesn't expect us to when we're praying for strangers. There was still something unsettled in the interaction that I witnessed that needed His attention and He knew better than I did what exactly that was. His allowing me to get to know what sweet man was His gift to me to let me know that He still knows better than I do. 

The flight to Philadelphia was the cloudiest flight ever and they told us to expect massive amounts of turbulence. I was terrified. I listened to Hillsong's "Touch the Sky" the entire flight and prayed for steady hands and a smooth flight. We hit barely any turbulence ascending or descending. It was the most beautiful flight, and as we were on our final descent into Philadehia I looked for as far as the eye could see and not a single tree was the same color and it was amazing. I wasn't even sad that I couldn't see the city. 

Boarding for Newark now. Wings up. Prayers up. 

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Thanks, American Airlines, for scaring me half to death by flying me on the tiniest plane in the sky I'M SURE. And thank you LORD JESUS IN HEAVEN ABOVE for sitting me beside the sweetest angel who entertained my need for constant conversation to deal with the whole situation even though she had been on flights all day coming come from Dublin. She was a New Yorker and her name was Caroline and I loved her. Through conversation I discovered that she once dated a guy that went to the University of Alabama and that her favorite author, Harper Lee, was also from Alabama. So she was a fan. I asked her what she did for a living and she said she was "Lawyer in Structered Finance" and instantly my brain spun out like a top that had lost track. It was almost like she had started speaking Mandarin mid-sentence. I knew the words that she was saying to me but the concept was so foreign that my brain just stopped understanding words. She lived on the Upper East Side and was carrying the most fabulous Birkin you have EVER seen. (For those of you searching google for "what is a Birkin?" ... I'll save you the search and tell you that it's fabulous, it costs dollars, it's a handbag, and then it's fabulous again.) Thank you, Caroline, for settling my fear on my first ever propeller plane ride! I pray your first day back after your trip will be jetlag-free!

After grabbing my bags at the airport, my company had a driver meet me and take me to my fabulous hotel with a room overlooking a mountain side with the most beautiful trees. (New Jersey in the fall ... Y'all ... there aren't words.) After having conversations with people and writing all day I was exhausted and wasn't really talking and the driver was trying to make small talk so figured I should talk back to him. Not knowing what his story was, I prayed for guidance. This was his first week at this job. He had recently stopped working in Baltimore because his wife had gotten sick and he stayed home with her to take care of her. Three weeks ago she passed away of breast cancer. She was his sweet heart of 25 years and he was broken-hearted. He told me he couldn't live in the house they lived in together anymore because it hurt too much and he couldn't stand to look at flowers anymore because she loved to plant flowers. I told him that I hoped he took at least one of her flowers with him when he moves. Will you pray with me that God helps him learn to love the flowers again? That he learn to someday look at flowers and remember their beautiful love? I can't imagine his pain, but I know the One who can heal it. 

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So many people, so many emotions, so many walks of life ... one Father who can bring about insurmountable change. I love days like today when life isn't passing me by, red light by red light, and I get to notice not just people but the lives of people. Witnessing humanity brings my heart closer to the Father than ever, and not because of anything that I've done, but because I see His power in and through every single placement and provision and I stand in awe of Him. He's the only constant in my life, the only One that I know without a doubt can move mountains that I thought could never be moved. And that is why I lean into him for strength and movement in the lives of those around me. He's so good, He's pure love, grace is his grip and mercy is his party favor. Let love in. I pray you do.