Wednesday, September 9, 2009
As I watched tears stream down his son's face, I couldn't help but crack. The pure yet raw emotion of the instant combined to produce a snapshot in time I can (and will) never forget.
Moments later, as I searched for a window seat on board, there was the boy, only a few rows in front of me. I heard a flight attendant utter his name: "Sam." Apparently the flight attendants were made aware of the situation, given he was the youngest solo passenger on the plane.
Passing Sam by, he appeared stunned, glued to the back of his seat, with eyes still bloodshot and overcome. At that point, my attempt to role reverse with Sam backfired, as my aqueduct reservoirs finally gave way.
"God, I hate divorce. I hate it, I hate it, hate it," was all I could mumble to myself.
No doubt Jesus was manifesting Himself through the actions of that little boy. In short time, my despise for divorce transitioned to a thankful praise, knowing we all have a choice to respond righteously to injustice and sin, to abuse and inequality, to oppression and prejudice.
Without question, Sam ended up "owning" a lot of people on that plane, including myself. He easily earned his wings in my book for rising over the great tragedy of divorce so that he could generously give of himself, his time, his smile, and his heart.
Three hours later, the plane landed and my foot finally touched Washington territory. Walking a few paces behind Sam out of the tunnel, I noted the skip in his step as he scampered to his mother. The real Sam had arrived.
And though he might be the middle man in a troublesome separation for years to come, God used him to remind me (and others) how to rightfully conquer and overcome adversity in times of great sorrow.
God bless you, Sam.