Travel Stories: Joy

Anyone who travels at all will have an airplane story worthy of retelling.

Last fall I took my girls to visit my grandmother in Northern Indiana and on the return trip was treated to the bumpiest flight of my life.

As we stood near the tiny gate and waited to board a commuter jet headed from Fort Wayne to Chicago, the gate attendant announced on the terminal loud speaker

Those waiting to board American Airlines flight 4134 with service to Chicago O’Hare airport, please be advised of the following. We have just been informed that the flight will be very bumpy and during the duration of the flight no one will be allowed to leave their seat for any reason, so please use the restroom before you board. The attendant will not be giving a drink service. Any drink or food items that you might need must be purchased now.  Thank you for your understanding.

Gulp.

I looked down at my daughters. They’d already plopped down on the airport floor and retrieved their electronics from their backpacks. They hadn’t even looked up once during the announcement. Hadn’t even noticed anything wrong near the gate.

“Do either of you need to go to the bathroom?”

“We’re fine, Mom,” my oldest said to me, her thumbs flying on her DS.

I’ve never loved flying and still to this day my heart races with any turbulence and my breath quickens during landings. I’m too much of an analyst, a worrier and a fatalist to every really be 100% comfortable on an aircraft.  This type of announcement was NOT good for my heart.

Boarding was announced and we gathered up our belongings to get on the plane.

As we moved closer to the gate I texted my husband and told him what the announcement had said. Pray for us, I finished.

I really was scared.

We boarded the tiny cabin, the kind that had my husband have been with us he would have to stoop a little to walk down the narrow aisle, and I overheard the male flight attendant speak to another passenger.

“So, is this flight really going to be that bumpy?” the passenger asked.

He looked at her, and with a true fear in his eyes {something I’ve never seen in a flight attendant who does this for a living}, said to her, “Yes. The flight from Chicago was the worst I’ve been on in ten years. “

What I learned later was that a tornadic system was coming in to the Fort Wayne area and the pilot wanted to get out before it got too bad. And what I also learned later was at the very moment we buckled our seatbelts and whispered prayers under our breaths my mother and aunt were in the basement waiting out the tornado warnings.

The flight was that bad.

After it took off, the plane tossed and turned and the woman behind me whimpered and screamed with every pitch. But at the same time she screamed out of fear, my girls squealed with joy. With every drop, my five-year-old said, “More!! I love PLANES!”  and with every sway my nine-year-old whispered to me, “This is awesome, Mom.”

As scared as I was, my children were at least that much filled with excitement. If I was fearful, they were joyful. If I was worried they were energized. To them it was adventure, to me it was risk.

We were perfect foils to one another: my fear and their joy.

The flight attendant never left his seat and my hands never left the arm rests until we touched down in Chicago.

I think we believe that hardships must must must be endured with stoicism, with resolve and with a firm faith in the God who will bring us through. {My whispered prayers: “Save us Jesus” was intermingled with “Planes don’t crash because of turbulence”}. Difficult situations must be endured {we think} and we forget that there can be joy even in the middle of the fear.

Joy doesn’t necessarily cancel out fear but I think joy practiced can.

A life lived in gratefulness for this single minute {and gratefulness for the joy it brings} can be a life lived without fear for the future. If this minute is a gift then the next one is unexpected bliss and the one after that is a rapture of joy!

I have far to travel on this journey toward a life with practiced joy and single-moment-thankfulness, but I do believe that it can be ours.

And then we can squeal with happiness because we are recognizing the adventure in the moment and not simply the risk.

There can be joy in the journey, even in the scary journey.

{I video-blogged about this story last November when it actually happened, but I think it’s worth telling again with new eyes.}

This is part of the Prodigal Magazine Travel Stories blog series. You can see other entries by clicking here.

How have you been able to “practice” joy? Have you ever experienced joy in the midst of fear?