Today, I'm grateful simply to be home.
...and am in hopes that these ruby slippers NEVER fail me!
...and am in hopes that these ruby slippers NEVER fail me!
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
MY SEASON OF GRATITUDE: November 16, 2013
Our late arrival last night insured us of a spectacular West African sunset and reminded me of a favorite quote:
“All the things I never said for so long…look up. They’re in my eyes. Everyone has oceans to fly, as long as you have the heart to do it. Is it reckless? Maybe. But what do dreams know of boundaries? I think about the hands I’ve held, the places I’ve seen, the vast lands whose dirt is caked on the bottom of my shoes: the world, has changed me.”
-Amelia Earhart
Changed and grateful in West Africa.
“All the things I never said for so long…look up. They’re in my eyes. Everyone has oceans to fly, as long as you have the heart to do it. Is it reckless? Maybe. But what do dreams know of boundaries? I think about the hands I’ve held, the places I’ve seen, the vast lands whose dirt is caked on the bottom of my shoes: the world, has changed me.”
-Amelia Earhart
Changed and grateful in West Africa.
MY SEASON OF GRATITUDE: November 15, 2013
Today I am grateful that at the age of 53, insomnia, the all-to-common affliction of the middle-aged, is not even on my radar! What was scheduled to be a typical Houston to Lagos flight of just under 11 hours duration took decidedly longer today.
Shortly after we completed the first component of service in the main cabin, a very pregnant lady appeared, in distress. We paged for anyone onboard with medical training and were fortunate to have several qualified responders. After a lengthy assessment and consultation with the captain and company headquarters, the decision was made to land in Miami for the welfare of both mother and child.
During our Miami approach, details of the lady's situation were revealed: she was being deported after arriving in the US from Nigeria just one day before, via Europe. Seems it had been determined that she was in America under false pretenses, which invalidated her visa. Her pretense? To give birth to a citizen of the United States, as all children born on US soil would be, regardless of parentage. Her determination was impressive.
The irony of the developing situation was lost on no one: the coincidentally "emergent" nature of her medical complaints in view of the fact that her deportation would sabotage her plan to give birth in the US. Dumping 64,000 pounds of fuel (approximately $40,000 worth) to make the 787 light enough to land safely and diverting to Miami, we, all onboard, played a role in helping her to successfully complete her mission.
I suspect that before we landed in Lagos some 9 1/2 hours after our Miami stop, the United States' newest citizen born of a foreign mother had arrived...
As planned.
Where does the "silver lining-seeker" find gratification in such a tale?
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Shortly after we completed the first component of service in the main cabin, a very pregnant lady appeared, in distress. We paged for anyone onboard with medical training and were fortunate to have several qualified responders. After a lengthy assessment and consultation with the captain and company headquarters, the decision was made to land in Miami for the welfare of both mother and child.
During our Miami approach, details of the lady's situation were revealed: she was being deported after arriving in the US from Nigeria just one day before, via Europe. Seems it had been determined that she was in America under false pretenses, which invalidated her visa. Her pretense? To give birth to a citizen of the United States, as all children born on US soil would be, regardless of parentage. Her determination was impressive.
The irony of the developing situation was lost on no one: the coincidentally "emergent" nature of her medical complaints in view of the fact that her deportation would sabotage her plan to give birth in the US. Dumping 64,000 pounds of fuel (approximately $40,000 worth) to make the 787 light enough to land safely and diverting to Miami, we, all onboard, played a role in helping her to successfully complete her mission.
I suspect that before we landed in Lagos some 9 1/2 hours after our Miami stop, the United States' newest citizen born of a foreign mother had arrived...
As planned.
Where does the "silver lining-seeker" find gratification in such a tale?
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
MY SEASON OF GRATITUDE: November 14, 2013
Shake my family tree and you'll likely find just as much uniqueness and dysfunction as you would by shaking any other. I've become fond of saying that the term "dysfunctional family" is a redundancy! Ask anyone and you'll learn that we each believe that our own familial idiosyncrasies are the most profound. I guess it's just another form of self-validation. But we are who we are largely because of our foundation of family.
The four main roots of my own family tree are planted firmly in the rocky red clay of North Georgia. Forged in the fire and brimstone of Southern Baptist tradition, I was raised in a world of right, wrong, good, evil, black and white that bears only a passing resemblance to reality. While it may not be the most realistic representation of the world, it certainly helps to prepare one for the constant decision-making required to survive there.
From the stiff-spined,ultra-conservativ
Growing up with such a dichotomy in the family lore helped to provide a balance in my perspective on things. My dad, the middle child of 10, and my mom, an only child (despite many efforts to make it otherwise by my grandparents), were/are the yin/yang in my life, as I have previously described. They are each a fair representation of their family backgrounds and that balance, I think, is the key.
While I could repeat tale after illustrative tale of life on the farm, at school, in church, etc. from the family compendium (thanks largely to the MASHBURNS), the point is this:
If friends are the family you choose, then what's so important about family?
Love 'em or hate 'em: EVERYTHING!
And for mine, I live in gratitude.
The four main roots of my own family tree are planted firmly in the rocky red clay of North Georgia. Forged in the fire and brimstone of Southern Baptist tradition, I was raised in a world of right, wrong, good, evil, black and white that bears only a passing resemblance to reality. While it may not be the most realistic representation of the world, it certainly helps to prepare one for the constant decision-making required to survive there.
From the stiff-spined,ultra-conservativ
Growing up with such a dichotomy in the family lore helped to provide a balance in my perspective on things. My dad, the middle child of 10, and my mom, an only child (despite many efforts to make it otherwise by my grandparents), were/are the yin/yang in my life, as I have previously described. They are each a fair representation of their family backgrounds and that balance, I think, is the key.
While I could repeat tale after illustrative tale of life on the farm, at school, in church, etc. from the family compendium (thanks largely to the MASHBURNS), the point is this:
If friends are the family you choose, then what's so important about family?
Love 'em or hate 'em: EVERYTHING!
And for mine, I live in gratitude.
MY SEASON OF GRATITUDE: November 13, 2013
Just received this from a customer on our Lagos to Houston flight last weekend: a lovely human being.
He said that he wanted to thank us (our crew) for our service.
I am honored.
He said that he wanted to thank us (our crew) for our service.
I am honored.
MY SEASON OF GRATITUDE: November 12, 2013
I woke to another beautiful morning, cool and sunny, with just a touch of fall in the south Texas air!
Every morning, beautiful or not, is so full of opportunity and potential. It dawns like a promise waiting to be fulfilled and carries an equal amount of obligation with it. The obligation is mine, ours.
Will we do the most, make the most we can of this new opportunity? Or will we allow it to whither on the vine, like an overripened fruit? Will we put the day to its best use?
Only one thing is certain: whether we make the most of what we are given or not, the promise of another dawn to follow, another chance to fulfill our own potential, remains until....
Grateful, for one more chance.
Every morning, beautiful or not, is so full of opportunity and potential. It dawns like a promise waiting to be fulfilled and carries an equal amount of obligation with it. The obligation is mine, ours.
Will we do the most, make the most we can of this new opportunity? Or will we allow it to whither on the vine, like an overripened fruit? Will we put the day to its best use?
Only one thing is certain: whether we make the most of what we are given or not, the promise of another dawn to follow, another chance to fulfill our own potential, remains until....
Grateful, for one more chance.
MY SEASON OF GRATITUDE: November 11, 2013
30 years ago, a cross-crountry long distance phone call carried a significant cost. Choosing to make an international call of any significant duration could mean having to skip a car payment! My, how things have changed.
Recently, I "FaceTimed" my Mom in Georgia from my hotel room in Narita (Tokyo). I gave her a video tour of the room and its Far East eccentricities and, together, we watched the takeoff roll of a ginormous AirFrance A380. The cost? Free.
The availability of inexpensive high-quality communication via the internet has become commonplace in all but the most remote regions of the planet. I realized just how much I have come to depend on that availability during my recent trip to Africa where service was spotty, at best.
While technological advances in communication have eased my ability to chat with distant family inexpensively on a daily basis, I also sense that they are DE-humanizing our communications overall. When's the last time you sat down, face-to-face with someone important in your life and just chatted? Do you remember what that kind of "chat" felt like? I do.
And for that, I am grateful.
Recently, I "FaceTimed" my Mom in Georgia from my hotel room in Narita (Tokyo). I gave her a video tour of the room and its Far East eccentricities and, together, we watched the takeoff roll of a ginormous AirFrance A380. The cost? Free.
The availability of inexpensive high-quality communication via the internet has become commonplace in all but the most remote regions of the planet. I realized just how much I have come to depend on that availability during my recent trip to Africa where service was spotty, at best.
While technological advances in communication have eased my ability to chat with distant family inexpensively on a daily basis, I also sense that they are DE-humanizing our communications overall. When's the last time you sat down, face-to-face with someone important in your life and just chatted? Do you remember what that kind of "chat" felt like? I do.
And for that, I am grateful.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)