Sitting alone in the terminal, windows revealed thin, glinting silver tubes slicing through July’s muggy atmosphere. I hovered over carry-on bags while the revolt in my stomach was slowly being quelled by the lunch spread across paper on my lap. Peace…or the closest thing to it was beginning to settle.
Two bites later, something akin to that sixth-sense of feeling someone standing beside you or entering the room replaced lunch and peace, as I thought I heard the sound of air rushing—just for a second. And shortly thereafter—again. Looking both ways, then up, I saw the quick, fierce flapping of small wings.
There were birds in the airport.
Perched on exposed beams the color of aircraft carriers, these little lives flitted around, frantically searching the terrain below for scraps of breakfast or droppings from lunch. Upon spotting a morsel, they’d swoop low, crossing back and forth like Cinderella’s chirping, airborne dressmakers. Joining other nameless travelers watching the spectacle, I waited for them to land, expertly plucking crumbs from the dirty threads of carpet.
And I instantly thought of the song my mother used to sing to me as a little girl—the one about sparrows and God’s love and His perfect provision. Here, in the midst of travelers and workers, plastic chairs and metal structures, birds were finding what they needed to live and make a home.
Sometimes God’s gifts and measures of provision do seem to turn up in the most unlikely of places. This week I experienced that very thing in the most humbling and surreal way: I was invited to Columbus, Ohio by Tami Longaberger to help promote the book we worked on together at the company’s annual convention, The Bee. What a bizarre privilege to offer help, to be a contributing team member, to be part of the success of this project.
I felt out-of-place in some ways, having left behind a sink full of dishes, a floor to be mopped, and fresh cookies tucked neatly in Tupperware for my kids—and heading straight for a new dress and a convention center. But in other ways, I felt right at home. Using parts of my brain and waking up skills that have been slumbering for a long time. Chatting with people and striving for a common goal, and feeling such happiness to see it coming about.
I was like a bird in an airport.
Only God isn’t offering me crumbs. He’s laying a sprawling banquet and pulling out my chair, encouraging me to dig in. To enjoy it. And in the midst of it all, in my heart, to praise Him.