Sunday, December 7, 2008

Well, I cannot believe this but nothing happened at the airport,

- unless you count the plane full of soldiers that were heading home for Christmas and had stopped over in Bangor, and the Maine Troop Greeters who handed them cell phones and patted them on the back and shook their hands and said "thank you,'' and then, when their plane was ready to go again, the greeters stood along the rampway clapping their hands and wishing "merry christmas'' to all those men and women;
- and of course unless you count the man who sat on the floor under the bank of telephones, crying, telling whomever was on the other end of the line that his wife had kicked him out of his own house and he couldn't go back for his belongings unless the police accompanied him and he was now in "deep shit, I tell you, really deep shit. I'm telling you. I'm really in trouble.''
- and of course unless you count the man who was REJECTED by TSA as he tried to board a Delta Flight and RAN back to his car in the parking lot with his duffel bag in his hand and dropped off the prohibited stuff - likely shampoo, anti-fungus foot cream and other flammables and incendiaries - and then RAN back into the airport, and RAN through the screening just as final call was under way.
- and of course unless you count the miraculous sight of my daughter and granddaughter coming through the gate, tears in Faye's eyes and a HUGE smile on Kiley's face as she proceeded to tell everyone - including the luggage - "HI" which is the only word she currently knows.

So we came home.
And today I had to give the lay sermon at church. I was so scared...a reporter is an observer, not a participant and even if they were all loving faces out there, and Kiley was still loudly calling out "HI" to all the people in the stained glass windows from the back pew, I was Nervous Nelly up there. I used a giant orange paper clip to distract me while I spoke and kept twisting it in my hands until it flew about three feet to my left from the pulpit, oddly taking direct aim at the organist's eyes but thankfully falling one foot short. whew.

But I am a trooper - yes I am - and I kept right on talking and sermonizing, knowing that EVERYONE saw the orange paper clip try to decapitate the organist.
Afterwards everyone came up and said "it was wonderful" and "thank you" which was quite appropriate because the theme was gratitude.
So now my girls have been reunited with Daddy/Hubby Matt who DROVE from Detroit, MI, and looks like leftover salad, all wilted and green, and they are on their way back home to Machias. My house still smells like pooey diapers, there are fingerprints over all the windows and the dog is hiding under the afghan on the couch, mourning the loss of her favorite friend. Move over Emma, I'm coming under there too!

3 comments:

Mr. 618 said...

Matt deserves his very favorite dinner, especially if he did the drive in one shot. It took me 20 hours from Ann Arbor to the midcoast area (that's counting stops to walk the dog), and the drive itself is no fun, whether you come across on 90 (through Buffalo) or 80 (through the middle of PA). And if he did it by himself, he deserves his favorite dessert, too... it's a hellish drive solo.

Gladys said...

Firt let me say. Thank you! Thank you for coming over to Gladys Tells All and leaving a comment so that I would come here and read your wonderful writing. I too have to write like a fish needs water. Oh and I'm glad that you got to visit with your girls and I have to stop writing so I can read the rest of your blog.

Joy T. said...

Troop Greeters?? That sounds so cool!

And I would have been the person going up and picking up that giant orange paper clip and giving it back to you. You know. Because I would have wanted to see if you could actually hit the organist the second time. Try try again and all that. Not to take out an eye or anything. Just hit her in the leg or something. Just to see if you could do it. What?? I would have prayed for forgiveness after.