A woman was waiting at an airport one night, with several long hours
before her flight. She hunted for a book in the airport shops, bought a
bag of cookies and found a place to drop.
She was engrossed in her
book but happened to see, that the man sitting beside her, as bold as
could be. . .grabbed a cookie or two from the bag in between, which she
tried to ignore to avoid a scene.
So she munched the cookies and
watched the clock, as the gutsy cookie thief diminished her stock. She
was getting more irritated as the minutes ticked by, thinking, “If I
wasn’t so nice, I would blacken his eye.”
With each cookie she
took, he took one too, when only one was left, she wondered what he
would do. With a smile on his face, and a nervous laugh, he took the
last cookie and broke it in half.
He offered her half, as he ate
the other, she snatched it from him and thought… oooh, brother. This guy
has some nerve and he’s also rude, why he didn’t even show any
gratitude!
She had never known when she had been so galled, and
sighed with relief when her flight was called. She gathered her
belongings and headed to the gate, refusing to look back at the thieving
ingrate.
She boarded the plane, and sank in her seat, then she
sought her book, which was almost complete. As she reached in her
baggage, she gasped with surprise, there was her bag of cookies, in
front of her eyes.
If mine are here, she moaned in despair, the
others were his, and he tried to share. Too late to apologize, she
realized with grief, that she was the rude one, the ingrate, the thief.
While waiting to pick up a friend at the airport in Portland, Oregon,
I had one of those life-changing experiences that you hear other people
talk about — the kind that sneaks up on you unexpectedly. This one
occurred a mere two feet away from me.
Straining to locate my
friend among the passengers deplaning through the jet way, I noticed a
man coming toward me carrying two light bags. He stopped right next to
me to greet his family.
First he motioned to his youngest son
(maybe six years old) as he laid down his bags. They gave each other a
long, loving hug. As they separated enough to look in each other’s face,
I heard the father say, “It’s so good to see you, son. I missed you so
much!” His son smiled somewhat shyly, averted his eyes and replied
softly, “Me, too, Dad!”
Then the man stood up, gazed in the eyes
of his oldest son (maybe nine or ten) and while cupping his son’s face
in his hands said, “You’re already quite the young man. I love you very
much, Zach!” They too hugged a most loving, tender hug.
While this
was happening, a baby girl (perhaps one or one-and-a-half) was
squirming excitedly in her mother’s arms, never once taking her little
eyes off the wonderful sight of her returning father. The man said, “Hi,
baby girl!” as he gently took the child from her mother. He quickly
kissed her face all over and then held her close to his chest while
rocking her from side to side. The little girl instantly relaxed and
simply laid her head on his shoulder, motionless in pure contentment.
After
several moments, he handed his daughter to his oldest son and declared,
“I’ve saved the best for last!” and proceeded to give his wife the
longest, most passionate kiss I ever remember seeing. He gazed into her
eyes for several seconds and then silently mouthed. “I love you so
much!” They stared at each other’s eyes, beaming big smiles at one
another, while holding both hands.
For an instant they reminded me
of newlyweds, but I knew by the age of their kids that they couldn’t
possibly be. I puzzled about it for a moment then realized how totally
engrossed I was in the wonderful display of unconditional love not more
than an arm’s length away from me. I suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if I
was invading something sacred, but was amazed to hear my own voice
nervously ask, “Wow! How long have you two been married?
“Been
together fourteen years total, married twelve of those.” he replied,
without breaking his gaze from his lovely wife’s face. “Well then, how
long have you been away?” I asked. The man finally turned and looked at
me, still beaming his joyous smile. “Two whole days!”
Two days? I
was stunned. By the intensity of the greeting, I had assumed he’d been
gone for at least several weeks – if not months. I know my expression
betrayed me.
I said almost offhandedly, hoping to end my intrusion
with some semblance of grace (and to get back to searching for my
friend), “I hope my marriage is still that passionate after twelve
years!”
The man suddenly stopped smiling.
He looked me
straight in the eye, and with forcefulness that burned right into my
soul, he told me something that left me a different person. He told me,
“Don’t hope, friend… decide!” Then he flashed me his wonderful smile
again, shook my hand and said, “God bless!”
