Airport Tantrums

My whole life, well, mostly once I entered my twenties, I have had this absolutely awful scowl on my face when I am simply just being me. I have been stopped so many times because of this, asked, “Jobnna, what’s wrong?” over and over again, only to have to reply, again, that it’s simply just me.


Well right now it’s not. I am furious. And that is absurd.


Honestly, how the hell could I be furious right now? I am in yet another airport, the fourth that feels like the 100th, and I still have 2 1/2 more hours to go before I’m in a car, then we drive an hour before I’m in my bed.


All I want is my son. I want to smell his baby scent. I want to go to him at 5:07 am and see his silly grin when he wakes up. I want him in my arms, close enough to bite. I just want my son.


I am complaining like a child. I am acting like a spoiled little kid. I stumbled around this airport in search of food and am so pissed off at nothing I refuse to eat. A man walked by me and quickly made eye contact with me, and I’m pretty sure he shivered under my stare.


So I stopped dead in my tracks while the rest of the spandex nation of young girls trotted by me, them completely unaware of the epidemic they were in fact a part of, the these-leggings-are-jeans- epidemic. I became more mad instantly but swallowed that one.


So there I am. Still. I take a deep breath and acknowledge how unChristlike I’m being. How selfish I’m being. I think about proclaiming that Jesus Christ is Lord but then think again. So, naturally, I start my list.


Thank You, that this first flight arrived safely. Thank You, that I was even given the opportunity to see Megan. And Willie. Sigh, thank You, oh so much, for Megan, and how You’ve given her to me like a glimpse of the heavenly joy. Thank You, that Michel is willing to pick me up. Thank You, that we have a car to use to pick me up. Thank You, that my son has been showered with love while I was gone. Thank You, that tomorrow I get to see Father Louis. Oh Lord, thank you. Thank You for the 4 1/2 hours of sleep I’ll get tonight. Better than none, I’ll tell ya. Thank You for the amount I’ll be working this week. Thank You, for making my heart burn to serve, to desire to build Your Kingdom up in any way I can, after feeling so dead for so long. Thank You, for allowing me to have people in my life that remind me that my vocation, now, suddenly, but totally, is motherhood.


If you’re wondering, I do feel better. I feel like all the holes inside of me that were welling up with anger have been slowly refilled with hope. I’ll sleep on this flight. I even have a window seat! Things are clearly looking up.


I did, however, go into the bathroom, squeeze me and my insanely large bags into a stall, and cry. I miss my kid. I’m a mom. I wonder if this will ever stop surprising me.

So I’m calm now, and my thoughts are merely passing through my head now, rather than attacking me.


I’ve been with Megan, and Willie for this weekend. We laughed. The kind of laughter that makes you wonder why we’re even alive and not just dancing on clouds with Jesus all the time. I don’t even know what that sentence means. All I know is that I have 1,000 desires, but they must be tamed. I can, and will, watch my single friends serve and fight and live for Christ, building communities and spending time, something I don’t have the same way as them. I’ll suffer in this, my longing to be a part of it all do real, so at my fingertips. And every now and then I’ll get lost in those desires. I’ll even cry about it, I’m sure.


But being away from Levi confirms it all. He’s my mission. We must go to heaven. He must know God. I am a mom. I am a mom. I am a mom.

For this, I am thankful.


God is so good. I can be so testy. I think He may be laughing at me, as I curse, sometimes too loudly, at my iPad for changing my words.


It’s ok, because we’re boarding.


Be thankful. I’m telling you, just stop and thank Him. It changes things.

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