Why is confirmation spelled wrong?

As I sat, eating my "last supper" of chicken pho, I casually picked up my phone to check on my flight for the next day. I couldn't remember the flight number, but I figured it didn't matter. How many flights could possibly be leaving for Germany at 1:35pm from one airline? Only one, most likely. I waited for my phone to pull up my flight confirmation as I twisted a huge, congealed mass of scrumptious rice noodles onto my fork. Insert bite into mouth. Yum. In conjunction with bite insertion, I see that the page has loaded with my flight information. But...what is this? What doth my eyes see? The international airline company has somehow misspelled "confirmation". This airline has spelled "confirmation" as "CANCELLED".  Of course, second guessing myself and the airline, I re-enter my flight information for the following day. Again, that silly airline says the same thing: CANCELLED.  Like any true America, I took it well and totally panicked.  Here I am, enjoying my last meal, had said some hard goodbyes, dropped my child (my cat, Pudz. sniffle, tear.) off with my wonderful kittysitters, packed and weighed my suitcases (yes, I have two. One extra one was provided by the family I'll be working with. My suitcase heroes.) and have gotten as mentally, physically, emotionally, and Spiritually ready as I could think to be. This cannot be happening. My flight cannot be CANCELLED. No warning, just CANCELLED. I was definitely NOT enjoying that moment, as I so whimsically stated in the namesake of this blog. Optimism out the window, panic commence. Thankfully, I was not alone eating the delicious pho when I found out the worst information that has ever been found out by any human, ever. Ever.  One of the most calm people I know was there with me, pulling me out of crazy/panic land and making genius suggestions like, "why don't you call the airline?" See? Genius!!! Deciding that calling the airline was a better idea than spontaneously combusting, I drove (read: sped) back to my place.

Once I arrived back, I checked my flight information on my laptop.  By this point I assumed that my phone was broken and if I checked my flight on my laptop all would be fine...nope, not true. Confirmation was still spelled CANCELLED. I called the airline and it rang six times. Then, a pre-recorded message came on and said: "I'm sorry, all lines are busy. Please try your call again later". Then, it automatically disconnected me. This is no joke. I tried to call about 10 times and got the same recording. I was truly befuddled. My flight was cancelled, and I couldn't get through and I was supposed to be flying out in less than 20 hrs. But how? I emailed and tried to call the family in Israel. When they finally got my messages, they contacted me right away. Now, two of us were working on it. One in Washington and one in Israel. Neither of us could get through. Do you know why? I will tell you.  The German pilots were going on strike for three days. So, any flight from around the world that was flying into Germany was cancelled. Not just mine, but ALL of them. I was not the only one in this situation.  When I found this out, I was glad to have a reason for the cancellation, but it still didn't solve HOW I was getting to Israel in less than 19 hrs. As I tarried on, searching for other flights, it got later and later and later. Already emotionally exhausted, I finally had to give into sleep and have faith that it would work out. My soon-to-be-Israel family kept working on it (it was their daytime).

I was awakened to a phone call around 6:30am.  After multiple tries and different attempts, my suitcase/airline/Israel-family-to-be heroes got through to the international airline company.  I had been booked, by the airline, on another flight with a different carrier. I was scheduled to leave seven minutes earlier than my original flight on the same day.


So, after snagging/stealing a row all to/for myself on the first 11 hour flight (yea!),

 eating some surprisingly tolerable airline food, seeing the Eifel Tower from the air, touching down in Paris, doing some pretty awesome people watching, absorbing the massive cultural differences and dress with every moment, barely surviving the last 4 hour flight in the worst possible seat EVER (last row of the plane AND in the middle seat -the ones that can't lean back- AND by the only two bathrooms on the plane which were constantly being flushed AND, for the icing on the cake, was between TWO women from Boston, who didn't know each other but wanted to become the bestest of friends while on the entire plane ride, leaning over and in front of me when "I" got in their way. Oh, did I mention, I was by the bathrooms? Both of them?), the plane finally touched down in Israel. I skidded through Passport Security where I was interrogated with questions about being there.  I can't imagine that I could've been that threatening, though.  I couldn't even see over the Passport Security counter. I am not joking. I had to tip-toe for my eyes to be level with the countertop. Who are these giants?

Now, a few days later, I reminisce about those 40 hours. I reflect on my need for continual growth in different areas.  In wanting to be the best Sara I can be, I know that means looking at my own life and examining some of the places that are easily covered by pride or blame. I could've easily blamed the airline for my spazzy behavior regarding the CANCELLED flight or felt justified in my helpless feeling, taking pride in my seemingly deserved self-pity. But how does that last sentence help me to be the best Sara I can be? It doesn't. When the flight was cancelled, I really didn't have the skills to know how to handle it. There was no warning or communication for the cancelled flight. I felt helpless because I really didn't know what to do. All that I had prepared for was coming to a culmination, but it seemed to come to a screeching halt. It was almost like a taking a deep breath, but then having to wait to exhale.

It was a lesson for me. It was a lesson in blind faith.  Faith in something you can't see, but still choose to trust because, well, what else is there? Would I handle it differently if it happened to me again? I don't know. I guess so because frustration brings us to a place where we give up or keep on having faith, even if we don't know the end result. So, I might not know how I would handle it differently next time, but if I choose to be the best Sara I can be, I can always choose the faith route instead of the crazy/panic one.

A True (but slightly exaggerated) Story

I sip my latte and mindlessly look out my kitchen window, waiting for the airline "baggage restrictions" page to load. My home is in a beautiful, country/forest setting but because of that, it doesn't make good for prompt Internet connection. Think back to the ancient days of dial-up, folks...yup, that's what it's like. So, finally the page loads and I scroll down to read about the baggage restrictions from the states to Israel. Scroll, scroll, scroll....hmmm, there are so many rules for checked baggage now. Eventually I get to the part that I've been looking for. That is, of course, after I read about over-sized luggage, special baggage, excess baggage, travelling with a child, stroller restrictions, child car seat restriction, and what to do when travelling with sports equipment. Okay, there it is: I get one bag that weighs 23 kg. First of all, WHAT? One? And, secondly how much is 23 kg? It must be about 150 lbs., since I only get one. I'm sure it must be. But no, all my illusions are dashed when I discover that 23 kg is about 50 lbs. Sara, do not panic. It is totally feasible. I can manage to pack my whole life into 50 lbs. Easy. All I have to take is pants, shorts, tops, dresses, skirts, sweaters, pj's, formal wear (you can never be too prepared), fashion scarves, head scarves, jewelry (must accessorize), about 10 purses (more accessorizing), all the shoes that might be necessary for any type excursion or outfit, all the curriculum and teaching supplies I need for schooling, all my daily toiletries, jackets, sunscreen, that totally cute straw summer hat, and my plethora of technology which probably weighs about 45 lbs. by itself. No problem, if necessary I can just leave a purse behind. 

As I stated in the title "A True (but slightly exaggerated) Story", some of the above is a teeny, tiny bit over-the-top. The sweaters might be a little much for Israel, don't ya think? But, in all truthfulness most of what I wrote is correct, I do have a lot to bring from my "here home" to my new "there home". What I should pack has really caused me to think. What do I need? What do I REALLY need, not want, need? I have been trying to look at my life and think about that. I would really like to bring my nephew with me, but for many reasons, mostly obvious ones, that is not an option. I will miss him. I will have to leave him behind, along with all the other people I wish I could pack in my suitcase. In considering what to take, there are many things I want to pack to bring along. I can quickly think back to all the other times I've packed for a trip where I brought what I thought was important. The average percentile of my over-packing is about 90%. As I pondered on my 10% success rate in mad packing skills, I began to think of people who made an impact on the world who seemingly travelled with nothing. Bear with me on this rabbit trail....I began to think about Mother Teresa.  Her heart was so burdened for the poor and destitute, that she wanted to live with them. She received basic training to do medical work, and soon started tending to the needs of the destitute and starving. She had no income and had to resort to begging for food and supplies. She experienced doubt and loneliness. Here is what she wrote in her diary:

Today I learned a good lesson. The poverty of the poor must be so hard for them. While looking for a home I walked til my arms and legs ached. I thought about how much they must ache in body and soul, looking for a home, food and health.

In 1950, when she started the Missionaries of Charity, this was the mission statement: to care for the hungry, the naked, the homeless, the crippled, the blind, the lepers, all those people who feel unwanted, unloved, uncared for throughout society, people that have become a burden to the society and are shunned by everyone.

She went on to do other great things that inspired the whole world. Thinking about her life was sobering to me. Here is this woman, commissioned by "her heart, belonging entirely to the Heart of Jesus, undeterred by criticism, accepted it (criticism) with a smile and did the work" (Mother Teresa's words, 1980). She owned nothing but a heart to care for those in need. She pressed on even when she had to beg for the most simplest of needs.  I find to be without words, it is humbling. And, here I am trying to decided what shoes to pack.

In no way am I trying to liken myself to Mother Teresa. It just made me think. She was so impassioned by her hearts' call.  Whether I'm packing to move my life to another country or I'm just heading to Haggen, a moment of destiny may be awaiting for me there. Considering that people are the most important gift that we have to enjoy (help, clothe, give a cup of coffee to, listen to, cry with, laugh with), I ponder about the moments that have passed me by. I (we) can get so busy that I (we) can forget that the moment happening right now, will never happen again. If we thought that way, how much would we do differently? We all have something to offer.  Mother Teresa started with nothing but a heart that belonged entirely to the Heart of Jesus and she impacted the whole world.

All of this insightful thinking doesn't change the reality of the fact that I have to pack to leave my "here home'.  But, I have to say that I have been thinking differently. Whether or not I bring that totally cute straw summer hat and the formal wear, I choose to live in the moment, appreciate the gift of people and treat each moment like it is my last. Who knows? It might be.



    

enjoy this moment, for this moment is your life

The namesake of this blog is the title that begins this journey.

I have never thought of starting a blog before. Do you know why? Who will read this thing? Me? My mother (hi, mom!)? Yup, in my assumption, that's about it. If you know me, I'm just normal. I'm a human, just like you. I'm just a girl from Washington. I've experienced highs and lows, good and bad moments, the best and worst food ever, had an "aha!" moment or two , been excited over a super-clearance deal on something awesome....see, just a human, normal...

But, in that normality, do you ever feel like this: "Okay, today was alright (good, horrible, spectacular, detestable, the worst ever), but I can't wait for tomorrow." Admit it, you've been there. I have. I'm ashamed to say how many times I've thought that. Now, I say "ashamed" because I can't really think of a better word...I don't actually sit around and shame myself for being excited for tomorrow. Being excited for a new day is a great thing. But what if that causes us (me) to miss the moments that are before us? For instance, it is literally dumping rain outside my window right now. Dumping. I walked down the stairs of my place and opened the front door and my welcome mat is under water, as is the cement walkway. In fact there is so much standing water with no where to go, it is beginning to look like a lake. Water is pouring out of my clogged gutters, like my own personal, beautiful waterfall. Yes, exiting my front door today will be an adventure. I am not exaggerating. This is a true story. It's a wet, muddy, pine needly, dirty day. If you're from Washington, I know you can feel my pain. If you're not from Washington, it's true, it rains here a lot. ANYHOW, my point being is this, I could hope for all the things that aren't happening today to happen tomorrow. In this case, sunny skies and no puddles. This is a customary way to think, "hopefully it will be better tomorrow!".  Right?

But, what if we think about the moment we are living in right now? What if we enjoyed this moment simply because it's our life and, after the moment passes we can never get that moment back?

So, to jump back to the beginning paragraph, I have a reason for starting a blog. (#1 for my mom to read, but you already know that). I have been given an opportunity for this moment in my life. At the perfect moment, I was offered an experience and adventure that I could not pass up. I am moving to Israel. I am leaving in less than three weeks. Here's what happened....

I have been working with children for many years. I love kids and believe in them. Being able to work with them is a true gift and, I believe, has big responsibility. I had a brief "intermission" from working with children, but do you know what happened to me? I missed them, all of them. Do you know why? I do. I am passionate about them and I have a heart for them. I am very thankful for that intermission and the adventure it took me on, but denying one's true desire is not healthy. Here's a little nutshell of "intermission" of late:  I was offered a job at a place that seemed promising and awesome. At the beginning, I was excited and inspired. I signed a contract and began. But, very quickly, I found that it was NOT a place for me. I will spare you of the details, but I can tell you that my heart was not at peace as I came and went from that workplace. So, I prayed about what to do (yup, I'm one of those. the praying-type). I knew what I had to do and had confirmation through those prayers. I had to quit. Now "quitting" is not in my vocabulary. I have never quit a job, especially one where I signed a contract with real ramifications if I did. So, as I set up the meeting with my boss, I had to walk by faith. With that faith I walked into the office on that Monday morning (of course, sweating through both layers I was wearing. I was wearing black, which I had planned, knowing my armpits as well as I do). I spoke honestly and truthfully. Guess what? I only had to pay $5,000.00 and write "I am a quitter!" on the office whiteboard 100 times to get out of the contract. Okay, not really.....here's what really happened: my boss just let me go. That's it, we shook hands and I just walked out the door. I was so thankful and relieved and KNEW I had done the right thing. You know, the right thing can't be defined by the label that may come along with it, i.e. "quitter", when you know it's the right thing.

In less than a week from that Monday morning, I received an email from a family I had known from one of my previous life experiences (jobs).  It was an invitation to be a part of their children's schooling, tutoring and teaching.  I knew in my heart that I was supposed to do it, and I was filled with excitement. Now, just like earlier, more praying ensued, because excitement is one thing but deciding what's best for a life decision has to be made with more than just feelings...So, without a doubt in my heart, my answer was yes. I was at peace about the decision to go.

Do you know what happens then after the decision has been made? You think about all the people you care about, all the people you'll miss and why AND what you'll miss. So, for all of you out there, this is for you. I can't possibly tell all of you all that I'll miss you dearly and how you've brought joy to my life, but you have.  Every moment that I've enjoyed has included you (whoever you are reading this).  So often we don't say the things we really mean to say, but why, why don't we do that? People are the most important and how will they know if we don't say it or tell them? So what better time to start than right now...please take this moment to enjoy a hug via this blog. Albeit cheesy, it is genuine.  If I could take you along, I would. But because I can't, I hope you'll join me as I enjoy this moment, for it truly is my life.