As I ramble on trying to get this post started and make you understand the power of the God we serve, a million thoughts fly out of my brain as quickly as they came into it. So I will just start with the middle of the story - that, after all, makes the most sense, right?
Two times in my 25 years I have seen my father cry: (1) the night I received Christ and (2) one afternoon when he spanked me. I looked up at him crying and said, "I still love you, Daddy." Perhaps that was an 8-year-old's tactic to avoid the next form of punishment. Regardless, I saw the tears in his eyes when he looked down and said, "I love you too, baby." However, the morning I said good-bye to my parents at the New Orleans airport, I saw his eyes start to turn red and I had to walk away. For I knew what would follow and I did not want to be there to experience it. Besides, I had a plane to catch - a very important one, at that! As I rushed to my gate I realized I was the last passenger to board so I quickly found my seat and began to settle in. I suppose that was when it all started. A day from hell, and I don't say that with a sacrilegious, sarcastic tone.
For the next 75 minutes to Miami, FL I prayed "harder" than I had my whole life up to that point. My guess is that all the "God is with me, I'm not traveling alone" saga was just words I spoke out loud to convince myself and others that I was okay with the faith-stretching adventure God was about to send me on. Upon landing in FL, our captain came over the intercom and said that we needed to be towed into the gate. So we waited.... and waited.... and waited. For an hour we sat on our aircraft waiting to be towed to our gate. Once I finally got off the plane (I was sitting in the back) and found out where the TACA counter was, I hiked it a mile through the airport. The not-so-sweet lady not-so-nicely informed me that, although my plane started boarding in 25 minutes, I should have been there an hour ago because now it is too late to go to my gate and they would not let me board. (Special thanks to Miami airport employees for the speedy towing service.) It was then that I trekked back to the American Airlines counter and stood in line behind 34 other people to figure out my next move. And yes, I counted the 34 people in front of me. While in line, the woman in front of me thought it would be a fun idea to let her 3-year-old daughter straddle her suitcase and ride on it. It worked for about 3.5 seconds until the girl's weight pulled the luggage backwards and she went tumbling on the floor, hitting her head on the cement. Screaming is an understatement. The young man behind me almost punched a man for accidentally running into his mom. And by "almost punched," I mean people around us had to break up the confrontation. I, on the other hand, just wanted to get on a plane to Costa Rica.
After 20 minutes at the AA counter, I got my new boarding passes and headed toward my gate. I had about 10 minutes to spare before my group would start boarding at 7:05pm. One hour and 30 minutes later, first class passengers began to board. You guessed it, my flight was delayed. Knowing that my phone would not work once I landed in CR, I tried everything I knew to get the message to the rest of my team traveling from other states. The message that I would not be there to meet them when I was supposed to. AA sent the message to Delta, I witnessed it. Delta, however, failed to pass it on. Needless to say, they were clueless the whole time. I expected my luggage to be on the carousel because AA in Miami told me that it went straight from New Orleans to San Jose. That, however, was not the case. After filing a missing baggage claim, getting through Customs and wandering around outside the airport, my group was no where to be found. My phone didn't work - neither did theirs. After several minutes of controlled panic and broken Spanish phone calls, I found my group. Well ... they found me, rather.
I was told my luggage would be delivered the next day to our hotel. And whatever you are picturing as our hotel, forget that image right now because it's probably not right. Thankfully I had 2 extra sets of clothes in my carry-on because my mother in her infinite wisdom has always taught me this. The day came and went with no delivery of a suitcase. My team and I prayed continuously for my luggage. It may sound tedious to pray for such, I know, but at that time it was a need. A big physical need. And as far as we knew, God was the only One who knew where my bags were. I remember praying the next morning (Sunday) with the rest of the team: "God, I am frustrated. I am so frustrated. I need my luggage but more importantly I need You to take this distraction away from me." Sunday came and went and all day long our local pastor's wife tried calling about the location of my bags but there was never any answer.
After 20 minutes at the AA counter, I got my new boarding passes and headed toward my gate. I had about 10 minutes to spare before my group would start boarding at 7:05pm. One hour and 30 minutes later, first class passengers began to board. You guessed it, my flight was delayed. Knowing that my phone would not work once I landed in CR, I tried everything I knew to get the message to the rest of my team traveling from other states. The message that I would not be there to meet them when I was supposed to. AA sent the message to Delta, I witnessed it. Delta, however, failed to pass it on. Needless to say, they were clueless the whole time. I expected my luggage to be on the carousel because AA in Miami told me that it went straight from New Orleans to San Jose. That, however, was not the case. After filing a missing baggage claim, getting through Customs and wandering around outside the airport, my group was no where to be found. My phone didn't work - neither did theirs. After several minutes of controlled panic and broken Spanish phone calls, I found my group. Well ... they found me, rather.
I was told my luggage would be delivered the next day to our hotel. And whatever you are picturing as our hotel, forget that image right now because it's probably not right. Thankfully I had 2 extra sets of clothes in my carry-on because my mother in her infinite wisdom has always taught me this. The day came and went with no delivery of a suitcase. My team and I prayed continuously for my luggage. It may sound tedious to pray for such, I know, but at that time it was a need. A big physical need. And as far as we knew, God was the only One who knew where my bags were. I remember praying the next morning (Sunday) with the rest of the team: "God, I am frustrated. I am so frustrated. I need my luggage but more importantly I need You to take this distraction away from me." Sunday came and went and all day long our local pastor's wife tried calling about the location of my bags but there was never any answer.
As we drove up to the reception area of our hotel after a very long, exhausting day, I said to the people sitting near me on the bus, "You know what would be amazing? If my baggage was just sitting there waiting for me. It won't be though, we have been calling all day and they are closed on Sundays." The words were not out of my mouth for 4 whole seconds before we saw it. There it was. My luggage, in all it's glory - just waiting for me to come get it and pull it up the monster hill to my cabin-thingy. Tears of gratitude may or may not have filled my eyes.
The next day (Monday) was our first day of ministry. I could not wait to start the sports outreach because that is right up my alley. Once we got to the field and started setting up, myself and a couple of the translators started kicking the soccer ball around. Trying to perform a trick with the ball, I jumped in the air and came down in a hole. My ankle sprained and popped. I felt it. I heard it. My whole body went down, of course, and I could feel the pain throughout my leg. That was the end of walking for me ... let alone anymore sports. So I thought.... God, on the other hand, had other plans. Not only was I able to walk on it for the whole week, I even played some soccer our last day there. (That probably was not the best idea considering the extra swelling it caused, but it felt right at the moment.) If you saw a picture of my ankle (facebook/older blog post) then you can tell I should not have been able to walk. But like I said, God is bigger than any plan of satan's because walking was our main form of transportation and indeed, I walked. Not on water, but barefoot on rocky roads.
All in all, getting to Costa Rica was an adventure in itself. I learned so much about our Father in just 12 short hours. Lessons I won't forget for a long time. I can't wait to post more later so you can see the tangible proof that I saw... proof that we serve a Mighty, Mighty, Wonderful Counselor and Friend.
All in all, getting to Costa Rica was an adventure in itself. I learned so much about our Father in just 12 short hours. Lessons I won't forget for a long time. I can't wait to post more later so you can see the tangible proof that I saw... proof that we serve a Mighty, Mighty, Wonderful Counselor and Friend.
I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should
go; I will counsel you and watch over you. Psalm 32:8
Ashli, what an amazing story! Love the blog, the pictures, and most of all your walk in the spirit of the Lord we serve.
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