“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” – John 15:13
Less than three years after the 9/11 terrorists attacks against our country, I arrived at the Pentagon for a 3-year tour. By then, the physical damage had been repaired, although building renovations were still ongoing.
Not long after my arrival, I went to meet with a senior officer from the Army’s G-1 personnel office. While waiting in a reception area, I struck up a conversation with the secretary and asked about her 9/11 experience. I knew that the Army G-1 had sustained a direct hit, killing 29 people, including their leader, Lieutenant General Timothy Maude.
The woman I spoke with survived that day because she was away from her desk at the time of impact. In a large computer room, while on her way to run an errand, she felt the impact and was knocked to the floor. In total darkness and with smoke filling the room, she knew she had to get out. Rattled and disoriented, she didn’t know which way “out” was.
Suddenly, she heard a reassuring voice in the darkness. “Grab a hold of my waistband. We’re going to crawl out of here.” The voice belonged to a Sailor, who was on his way to the Pentagon gym at the time of the attack. The woman complied, and the two of them slowly crawled through the smoke and rubble.
At one point he asked her how she was doing. Her main issue was the snot and soot coming out of her nose. The Sailor pulled off his sweatshirt so she could wipe the snot and grime off her face.
They eventually made their way out of the building. The Sailor quickly left her with his Navy sweatshirt and she never saw him again. She suspects he may have gone back into the building to help others. Although she doesn’t know his name, she said she will forever be grateful to him for guiding her out of the building, and perhaps saving her life, on that fateful day.
The note from the margin reads: Lessons from 9/11…
1. Be a hero. Thousands of heroes were revealed on 9/11 and the days that followed. We found them among the World Trade Center and Pentagon personnel, rushing to save themselves and others. We found them in a group of strangers who teamed up to take back United Flight 93, preventing the plane from killing an untold number of U.S. Capitol personnel. We found heroes in the firefighters and other first-responders who rushed toward danger to help others. Many lost their own lives in the process.
In John 15:13, Jesus highlights a special kind of hero: one who loves his friends enough to lay down his life for them. Jesus raised the bar higher. He laid down his life not just for his friends but for his enemies. He suffered a cruel death for those who despised and rejected him. While I’m confident I would lay down my life for my family, and most likely for my friends, I’m not so sure about my enemies. That’s another thing that sets Jesus apart and makes him the hero among heroes.
You may never have the opportunity to be a hero in such a dramatic and public way as those who emerged on 9/11. But, every day, we have an opportunity to do good for others. Paul, in Galatians 6:9-10, states, “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.”
2. Live each day as if it were your last. Psalm 90:10 reads, “Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty, if our strength endures; yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away.” The psalmist reminds us of the difficulty and brevity of life. We are mortal and, in the context of eternity, have but a few days. (See Job 14:1 and Psalm 90:12) James puts it this way: “Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” (James 4:14)
On the morning of 9/11, I doubt any of the victims gave much thought to the idea that it would be their final morning on earth. We don’t like to think about such things, and yet, we all have that date with destiny. As such, we must make “the most of every opportunity.” (Ephesians 5:16)
Jesus drives the point home in Matthew 24:42-44: “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.”
3. Get back up when you get knocked down. The 9/11 terrorist attacks knocked our nation to its knees, but we rebounded stronger and more united than ever. The Army secretary who shared her story with me represents thousands of survivors and next of kin who had to literally or figuratively crawl on their hands and knees in darkness until they found the light.
Faithful Christians can expect to get knocked down from time to time. In 2 Timothy 3:12, we read, “In fact, everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.” Our response to being knocked down and persecuted is found in Proverbs 24:16: “for though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again, but the wicked stumble when calamity strikes.”
In 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 Paul, who faced his fair share of persecution, concludes, “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”
9/11/01…may we learn the lessons and never forget.
The first I shouldn’t mention. It would be premature, perhaps even inappropriate. Despite making several comments, outright and subtle, I haven’t obtained spousal approval for it. Not even close. My mentions of it have brought only stares, puzzled looks, and a few dismissive comments…like when I suggested that our bedsheet doesn’t need to be tucked under the foot of our queen mattress.
Still, I’ll mention it. I want to “thru-kayak” the Missouri River—the longest river in North America. Beginning in the Rocky Mountains area of southwestern Montana (near a spot where Sacagawea was kidnapped by the Hidatsa during a raid on a Shoshone camp), the grand waterway flows 2,341 miles to St Louis, Missouri (near a spot where my youngest son, Kyle, aka B.W. POT, frequents St Louis Cardinals games).
My kayaking experience? Limited. 30 minutes on a pond in Montclair, Virginia. 120 minutes in a tandem kayak on Alaska’s beautiful Chilkoot Lake with my even more beautiful wife. And a strenuous, windy, 120-minute family adventure in sea kayaks off the coast of Bar Harbor, Maine. That should be sufficient. I mean, how hard can it be to paddle a boat downstream for 3 months? I just need spousal approval. And a kayak.
That brings me to my second new bucket list entry. This one, a result of our recent move to Maryville, Tennessee, is not only approved, but underway! Over the next several years, I plan to hike the Top 20 trails in the Smoky Mountains…accompanied by my better half whenever possible.
So, on August 12, 2019, my assault on this bucket list item began. Tale of the tape…
Trail Number 1 – Newfound Gap to Charlies Bunion Roundtrip Length: 8.1 miles Total Elevation Gain: 1640 feet Avg. Elevation Gain/Mile: 405 feet Highest Elevation: 6122 feet Trail Difficulty Rating: 11.38 (strenuous) Trip Photos: posted in a new album on my Author Steve Johnson Facebook page
My hike took place on my way to pick up Janet in South Carolina, where she had spent the week caring for her injured sister. Earlier, she had informed me that this particular hike was just outside her definition of fun. Thus, I would journey solo.
With my worn AT backpack, two 2-liter bottles of ice cold water, a few books, two PB & J sandwiches, some chips, and an apple, I generously applied lube and left our apartment at 7:30 a.m. for the 90-minute drive to Newfound Gap. On the way, I caught the day’s weather forecast on the radio—the heat index was expected to top 100 degrees, one of the hottest days of the year. Although initially concerned, I remembered I had two things going for me: a morning hike, and one that would begin at a much cooler 5049 feet above sea level and climb to over 6100 feet.
I arrived at the large Newfound Gap parking lot at 9 o’clock and was surprised to see only about a dozen other cars at the popular tourist area. Stepping out of the car, the memories came flooding back. I remembered arriving at that same parking lot on Day 21 of my AT hike, accompanied by Princess Elle, who anxiously awaited the arrival of her boyfriend. On that 2016 day, we received “rock star” treatment as people approached us like tourist attractions to ask us about our thru-hikes.
Fast forward to 2019—no rock star treatment this time. I was too plump and clean-smelling to be confused for a thru-hiker. Less visibly, I was wearing cotton underwear, a trail anathema. I strapped on my pack and walked across the parking lot toward a sign marking the way to head northbound (actually eastbound) on the Appalachian Trail. “Hello, old friend,” I mumbled to myself, then began my ascent.
America’s most glorious trail wasted little time in putting me on a steady, uphill climb, with white blazes marking the way. Once again, my mind began processing the myriad memories from my AT hike. The canopy of trees that form a long green tunnel. The need to keep my head down, much of the time, to plot the next step forward, factoring in rocks, roots, trees, and other obstacles. My ears peeled for the sound of anything unexpected. My arms and legs pumping in unison like a machine. Sweat beads forming on my brow. Muscles twitching in my calves and thighs as I propelled myself forward. The perfect intersection of my physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional selves. (Warm banana pudding has the same effect.)
Man, it was good to be back!
My first milestone, because an ENTJ like myself always must have a goal, was to cover the nearly three miles to Icewater Spring shelter without stopping. Along the way, I passed five couples, two dogs, and a child who, to their credit, had embarked on much more leisurely treks. While it wasn’t the right time of year to catch blooming wildflowers, I enjoyed stunning views of the North Carolina Smokies to the south.
At about the mile point, I encountered my first and only snake of the day—a harmless garter snake. Moments later, I glanced down and spotted a tick crawling along my left forearm. Fun fact: During my 2016 hike, I encountered only two ticks over 2100+ miles—both on my arms—one embedded and one crawling. On this day, I encountered a tick within the first mile of my hike. Okay, so that fact wasn’t all that fun.
As I climbed, I looked forward to my return to the Bunion. I longed to stand alone atop the famed rock, surveying the vast wilderness around me. Incidentally, the name Charlies Bunion was derived when Charlie Conner went on a hike with Horace Kephart, a friend and one of the early visionaries for a national park in the Smokies. When they paused to rest near the now famous rocks, Conner took off his boots and socks, revealing a rather severe bunion that resembled the rocks in front of the men. Kephart observed Conner’s feet and said, “Charlie, I’m going to get this place put on a government map for you.” And that’s precisely what happened. Had Horace hiked with me, rather than Charlie, the place would be called Steves Toenail-Fungus.
As I continued my climb along the ever-narrowing ridge, I glanced at my watch every few minutes to note the change in elevation. I’m not mentally at peace unless I have some sort of data to process and make sense of. It helped me pass the time during long stretches alone on the green tunnel in 2016. You might call me analytical…or simply a nerd.
At the 3-mile point, I arrived at my first stopping point, the Icewater Spring shelter, which is named after the nearby spring that flows from a pipe in the middle of the trail. I sat on the bench at the front of the vacant shelter, and the memories returned. I remembered sitting on that very bench, three years earlier, in sub-freezing weather, surrounded by dear friends who came to be known as the Great Smoky Mountains Bubble.
It was at this very shelter I met John Just who was hiking the AT to draw attention to his rare, genetic Fabry disease. We also encountered a sweet, though slightly overwhelmed couple, accompanied by their 9-year-old daughter, a telescope, guitar, and canned goods…but no sleeping pads. The poor girl tossed and turned, shivered, and cried out throughout the night. I felt bad for her. I hoped that she would survive the night. I also hoped that if she didn’t survive the night, I might get a share of her food.
Speaking of food, I made quick work of an apple and PB & J, as four section hikers from Indiana arrived and chatted with me about…guess what…the AT. I opened the shelter log, signed in with a note, and scanned a few of the entries. The day prior, a hiker with the trail name Spirit had been there. He/She wrote, “I am infinitely grateful for the woods and the peace it brings me. I am 90 days sober and feeling better than ever. It’s always a bit scary leaving the comforts of society for the outdoors for weeks but it is always worth it… ‘into the forest I go, to lose my mind & find my soul – John Muir’.” I appreciate the note and hope this hiker finds what they’re looking for. Not all trail magic takes the form of food.
Before departing the shelter, I established the Icewater Spring shelter library by placing my two AT hiking books and devotional book, secured inside clear, protective storage bags, on the upper bunk inside the shelter. Maybe God has someone in mind to read them.
Back on the trail, I snapped a picture of the Icewater Spring, then continued mostly downhill about a mile to a sign marking the Charlies Bunion spur trail to the left. With it being a Monday morning, I anticipated having the place to myself. I would be able to climb the famed bunion alone, with the peace and serenity of the Smokies surrounding me. As I carefully walked along the narrow ledge with an extremely steep drop-off, I took in spectacular views, including Mount LeConte, and considered how easy it would be for someone to misstep and die.
As I rounded the final turn, I looked up and was shocked to discover the glorious bunion was covered with unsightly humanity! Bummer! But, hey, no problem. I would hang out at the base of the bunion and chat with a couple as we waited for the large, brown-skinned contingent to climb off the famed rock. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Despite glancing at my watch and then glancing their way several times, they didn’t get the hint. For the next 10 minutes, they laughed, took in the views, and chatted in a language appearing to be Spanish, although I wasn’t close enough to confirm.
Needing to get back down the trail, and unwilling to wait any longer for them to show tourist etiquette and gracefully exit, I got an idea. I cautiously approached the base of the rock and, using the pseudo-Spanish I learned from my friend Terry Reeves in Honduras, said, “Hola. Mi nombre es Steve, aka Fob. Me gusta…uh…una foto…uh…on that bunion you’re sitting on.”
They looked at each other, laughed, and motioned for me to join them. Yes, it was an offer to join the party. The party on the bunion. Or, as they say in Guadalajara, la fiesta en el juanete.
As I scrambled up the rock, using both hands to keep my balance, one of the male rock occupants said something to me. I couldn’t tell if it was “que es un Fob?” or “queso Fob” (a rare cheese) or perhaps something else. My ear canals were sweaty. Not wanting to be impolite, I replied, “Es una larga story…for another tiempo.”
At the top of Charlies Bunion, I quickly assimilated to my hosts’ lives and culture. We smiled, high-fived each other, laughed for no reason, posed for a few photos, and bonded in ways that transcend language and nationality. This wasn’t the moment of quiet, solitary beauty I had anticipated, but it was special…really special. Trail magic, in fact.
Realizing they had no plans to leave the bunion, and might even live there, it was time for me to gracefully exit. I gave them a few more fist bumps, started down the rock, and looked back to say, “Gracias, amigos.” They smiled and said something I couldn’t quite make out. It might have been, “Fob, eres el mejor.”
I made my way back to the trail, and turned westward toward Newfound Gap. A few miles later, I caught up with another couple and their son who were plodding along. Craving conversation in my native tongue, I asked if they had been to Charlies Bunion…they had. I asked if they had met the delightful Hispanic people atop the bunion.
“Yes,” the man said. “But they’re not Hispanic. They’re from India.”
Boom.
That brings me to my third new bucket list item: learn Hindi.
Until then, this first of 20 planned hikes of the Smokies will remain… la fiesta en el juanete!
On paper, today will go down as an ordinary day in my life—day #19,419 to be exact. I ate three meals, did routine work with some friends at a Bible camp, played with a dog, worked on a book, went for a walk, and attended an evening Bible study. But as I sit here just past midnight and reflect on the day gone by, I believe God had a couple of specific messages for me. He sent those messages—those reminders—via three friends and fellow Sojourners. Those messages, if I take them to heart, can make today not ordinary but extraordinary.
The first message came from Dale Morris, a man who I have grown to love and respect through our work together as Sojourners. Dale did our morning devotional and talked about how the existence of God can be seen in the natural world around us. Actually, he did more than talk. Dale was pretty fired up and it wasn’t just because of the warm cinnamon rolls. He talked about a National Geographic program he had seen that featured a stunningly beautiful jellyfish, spotted 4000 feet beneath the ocean surface off the coast of Baja California.
As Dale put it, “The thing was incredible, I mean it was beautiful, and it was dancing! Ya gotta see it! (I did, and included a link below) I mean, why is this gorgeous and intricately detailed creature dancing at 4000 feet deep? I’ll tell you why. Because God made it! And we serve an awesome, creative God!”
Dale was just getting started. His next stop took us to a giraffe exhibit at a zoo where he had taken his grandchildren. Dale talked excitedly as he described one particular feature of the giraffe—its black tongue. “You know why it’s black? I’ll tell you why. Because giraffes spend much of their waking hours with their tongues out, trying to reach leaves at the top of trees. Those tongues are highly susceptible to sunburn. So, God designed the giraffe with a black tongue to protect it from ultraviolet rays! Ya gotta see it! What an awesome God we serve!” Dale was fired up…and that got me fired up…at least enough to pen this blog.
After a few more examples, Dale concluded with God’s most significant creation—mankind. When God made man, he was at the top of his game, and made us in his own image. Among other things, that means he instilled in us a tiny fraction of his creativity. To make his point, Dale pointed to Denton Wiggains, another Sojourner friend of mine.
Among many great qualities, Denton is a creative problem-solver. Years of solving problems on the farm, at church camps, and elsewhere have given him a knack for looking at problems in unconventional ways. Case in point: Denton was asked to take the lead on a bathroom repair project here at Carolina Bible Camp that was supposed to take a couple of weeks and cost several thousand dollars. Denton studied the situation for several minutes and came up with and implemented a brilliant, creative solution that took him two hours and zero dollars.
How was Denton able to pull that off? I’ll let Dale answer: “Because our creative God made him that way! And you know something else about Denton? No one gets more excited about completing a project than Denton does. He emerges from cold, dark, damp, dirty places with a smile from ear to ear because he knows God just helped him figure something out!” Denton’s joyful attitude reflects the God who created him. It’s also contagious…but will I catch it?
In addition to learning about joy and God’s creativity from Dale and Denton, I learned a third lesson from Bob Jarvis, another Sojourner friend who made a comment in class tonight. We were discussing how heaven is the ultimate, final blessing for Christians, but we experience many blessings even while we’re still on this earth. Yes, there are hard times—trials and suffering—but also many good things that should bring us joy.
Bob chimed in and said that “eternal life” is not something that will begin when we die. It’s something that already began when we began our new life as a Christian. For Christians, you might say eternal life is already underway. I had never thought of it that way. In John 10:10, Jesus said, “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” While our ultimate home in heaven will be the final, complete, and perfect manifestation of that abundance, we also experience it on this side of eternity. We experience God’s peace, provision, and purpose for our lives, and that should give us joy.
Just like the giraffe tongue, it might even get Dale fired up.
Christmas…ahh! Andy Williams was right—it’s the most wonderful time of the year. Of course, not everyone shares that sentiment. For some, the holidays remind them of loved ones lost or family members from whom they’re separated. For others, there’s the added stress associated with decorating, family gatherings, ice storms, and traffic congestion. For still others, there’s the unbridled commercialism—the emphasis on “stuff” rather than faith and family. For a few, there’s the fear of opening their largest present and having it be fruitcake. May you never be the giver of said cake.
Ghost of Christmas Past
Despite all those negatives, Christmas is still special to me. One of the benefits of growing older is you begin to stockpile Christmas memories. (Downsides: random body hair, skin tags, colonoscopies, hot flashes and indigestion.) If I were to ever downplay or disparage Christmas, I suspect the Ghost of Christmas Past (think Harry Potter’s Albus Dumbledore with wings) would pay me a visit and lead me on a trip down memory lane…
Our first stop…1991…Nathan, my nephew, wants nothing but the highly popular nerf bow & arrow. My mom dispatches the entire family across 4 states to find one for her precious grandson. After searching a dozen stores, Janet finds the coveted toy, thus saving Nathan’s view of Santa’s ability to work a miracle. (The following year, young Nathan wanted nothing but D batteries because “they make everything go.” Can’t argue with that logic.)
Albus takes me to the next scene. I’m setting up yet another freshly cut Christmas tree with Dad. Our sap-covered hands use screws, cardboard, and coasters to eventually make the tree look semi-level. Then Mom insists we spin it to hide the bare side and we start the leveling process all over again. Dad sighs and I hand him a cup of eggnog.
Climer Christmas
The scene shifts to a living room in South Carolina. The extended Climer clan has gathered for another “white elephant” gift exchange…with all the gifts coming from the local thrift store (this is what you do with a group that doesn’t need or want anything specific). I realize the 1980 Jane Fonda workout VHS I just opened will not be stolen. It’s what is known as “a keeper.” Another “keeper” is the used, sexy nightie MawMaw just opened. Her smile is not nearly as big as Papa’s.
Yet another “Keeper”
Albus and I arrive at my late grandmother’s Punta Gorda, Florida neighborhood. It’s 1986 and Nanny is leading us on a caroling adventure up and down the streets near her home. At nearly every home, the lights turn off at our first note of Silent Night. We grimace as Nanny bangs on the door until someone answers. “Ethel, I know you’re in there!” I feel Ethel’s pain.
Game On!
An instant later, Mr. Dumbledore and I hover over an annual living room ritual. Nanny and I are “sumo wrestling” in the middle of the carpet, as the rest of the family encircles us and cheers us on. A few bets are placed—I’m a 20-1 underdog again. Despite similar, formidable girths, she has far better technique. I think she wrestled in high school. Nanny uses her voluptuous assets to pinch my torso like a bull ant’s mandibles clutching a rival ant’s larvae. As I’m helplessly driven to the edge of the carpet in defeat, I reach down and grab her butt cheeks as someone snaps a picture. I’m defeated, but shamelessly thrilled nonetheless. “I’ll get her next year.”
Yuletide Thrills
We travel across the giant pond to the land of bratwurst and sauerkraut. It’s 2002 and I’m assembling yet another “some assembly required” Santa gift the night before Christmas. It’s 1 a.m. and the foosball table instructions are in German. I’ve been at it for two hours. A few of the men end up standing on their heads, rendering them ineffective. They feel the scorn of their teammates as they try in vain to pass the just-out-of-reach ball with their foreheads. “My goalie’s upside down, Dad,” young Jason complains the following morning. “Take it up with Santa, son!”
Suddenly, it’s 2003. My extended family has come to Europe and we’re all staying at a quaint, snow-covered lodge in Austria. The locals are reading about the birth of Jesus in German at our lodge’s restaurant. As the story moves into its second hour, I curl up on a restaurant bench and fall asleep. I’m tired, don’t speak German, and know how the story ends.
Ugly tree, forced smiles…just sayin’
The next day, we’re sledding down a steep, winding road with a snow bank at the end. Dad plows head first into the bank at full-speed and staggers to his feet, looking like the Abominable Snowman. “Brakes are for sissies.”
We visit Germany’s ancient walled city of Rothenburg and do the Nightwatchman’s Tour. As we walk the ancient walls, snow begins to fall. I feel like I’m in a scene from a Hallmark Christmas movie. Maybe Janet will kiss me at the end of this scene.
Suddenly, we’re on a tram climbing Zugspitze, the largest mountain in Germany, along the German-Austrian border. It’s bitterly cold at the summit and we look down on the ski slopes below. Later, as we exit the tram, the Austrian operator says “Auf Wiedersehen“ to which my brother-in-law, Daniel, replies, “wie treu sind deine Blätter” which translates “how lovely are your needles.” The operator looks puzzled. He should be.
Frozen atop Zugspitze
Albus takes me to Nuremberg. We’re about to visit Christkindlesmarkt, the world’s biggest and best Christmas market. In the hotel lobby, Jason suddenly becomes ill and is rushed to the bathroom. He doesn’t make it and vomits on the bathroom door. “Housecleaning!” As Janet attends to him, Kyle and I head for the market, where we split a meter-long bratwurst, devouring it from both ends.
Best Buds
The scene shifts to my parents’ home. I hear the ringing of Christmas bells. I’m not sure of the year because each year, Mom rang a special set of bells early Christmas morning, announcing, “He came! Santa came!” The sleepy-eyed children line the stairwell, waiting for the green light to rush downstairs to open their presents. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to hear Mom ring those bells one more time.
Christmas morning ritual
“He came! Santa came!”
We move downstairs, and Dad’s magical Christmas Snow Village is lining various pieces of furniture across two rooms. Each year, his wondrous neighborhood grows with the addition of a snow-covered corner store or gas station. These days it sits in his attic…and that makes me a little sad.
A Most Wonderful Time
“Albus, is that food I smell?” The food. Ahh, the food! Mom and her helpers delivered every year. Pork tenderloin. Prime rib. Mashed potatoes and gravy. “The fried okra is for Steve, but you all can try it,” Mom would say, reinforcing my sisters’ belief that I was the favorite. Mom knows fried okra is my love language. Eventually, Kyle shares a line from one of our favorite family movies, “This corn is an angel.” As we eat, we each get to share something we are thankful for. From where I sit, there are so many options.
Ghost of Christmas Present
Next up, the Ghost of Christmas Present (think Samuel L. Jackson in a black derby and red and green silk scarf) leads me on a review of 2018…the “most wonderful” year we could have hoped for…
We’re at a doctor’s office watching my Dad get the news that, thanks to God’s grace and something called “immunotherapy”, his cancer (of the groin, lungs, and brain) has disappeared! Poof! Praise God! He’s still going strong at 82…and we’re thankful for every additional day of life that God has granted him.
Sojourner Jan at Riverside Christian Academy
Samuel flies me over the scene of our RV journeys this year. I pinch myself because I’m living the life I’ve always dreamed of…traveling by RV, serving people along the way, and writing and publishing books. We fly over the location of our 2018 sojourns in Florida, North Carolina, South Carolina, & Tennessee…and a disaster relief zone in Panama City. I’m reminded of the incredible, God-loving people we’ve met and served with along the way.
Mr. Jackson takes me to the front of a church auditorium. I’m talking to an audience about my Appalachian Trail thru-hike and how I experienced God over those 6 months. I’m reminded how blessed I am to have been able to tell the tale to two dozen churches, schools, and civic organizations around the country over the past 2 years. Maybe that was God’s plan for me and my hike all along. I glance at Mr. Jackson, who breaks my chain of thought by asking, “What’s in your wallet?”
The scene shifts to our RV, positioned between two mountains at a campground near Maryville, TN. It’s late summer. Janet and I are on the bed, debating the use of a comma and the choice of a specific Scripture. (Not as romantic as other times in that room.) Our efforts ultimately lead to the publication of my 3rd book, Faith in the Margins…a 365-day devotional book based on the notes in the margins from 15 family Bibles spanning 5 generations and nearly a century. Available on Amazon…hope you’ll check it out!
Now we’re back in another church auditorium in Boiling Springs, SC. Janet is behind the podium this time, totally crushing a Ladies Day. She stands on a homemade platform I built for her so she’d be visible behind the podium. With age, she’s grown more beautiful…but certainly not taller.
In an instant we’re hovering above a glacier. Yes, it’s our 30thAnniversary celebration…a Land/Sea cruise to Alaska with Kyle and Laci and her family. Glaciers, sled dogs, kayaking, national parks, a train ride, a mountain hike, guides that won’t shut up, and a grizzly bear…the trip of a lifetime! On top of that, Janet is a finalist for the onboard singing competition, “Voice of the Ocean”, and gets the audience on their feet with a spirited rendition of “Dancing Queen”. You know what’s more amazing than a cruise to Alaska? Being married to someone you love…your very own Dancing Queen…for 30 years!
Ooh, see that girl Watch that scene Dig in the dancing queen
Hike Alaska!
Mr. Jackson rounds out our 2018 tour by showing me other memorable scenes…eating fish, playing cornhole, walking the beach, and hot tub soaking with Ellen & Vin (sister and brother-in-law) near Gulf Shores, AL and Seagrove Beach, FL. Walking the streets of Savannah, GA, with Sojourner buds Denton & Beth Wiggains. Eating pancakes in Gatlinburg and driving the Cades Cove loop with John & Laurie Walsh. Pontoon boating Tims Ford Lake in TN with James & Susan Bryant. Touring the Biltmore Mansion with Jason & Rachel. Dog-sitting our granddog, Pita, near St Louis. (A dog with over 5300 Instagram followers…check out her adorable posts at @pitathebichonfrise.) Driving a rental car through the night from Chicago to St Louis to get Kyle & Laci to the airport in time for their flight to Greece. All great memories, except for that last one.
Ghost of Christmas Future
Finally, the Ghost of Christmas Future (think a shirtless Patrick Swayze, riding a white stallion) gives us a ride and peek into the future…
I see a house somewhere in the vicinity of Maryville, TN. Could it be ours? Only time will tell. I glance at Janet, and she’s running her fingers through Mr. Swayze’s flowing hair. Awkward. Should have went with Uber.
The stallion approaches the window of our future house and we look inside. We’re in rocking chairs, holding grandchildren in our arms. I glance at the calendar on the wall…is it 2020 or maybe 2030? I can’t quite make it out. Regardless, it seems our ongoing efforts to sabotage our progeny’s birth control methods will eventually pay off. “Papa Fob, tell us the story of your dog Mandy,” little Zeke mutters. “Well, if you must know, Mandy’s dead and I made sure she ain’t coming back,” I respond. I’m gonna make a great grandpa.
“She ain’t comin’ back, Zeke.”
I blink my eyes and it’s Christmas time. Our future home is covered with the most magnificent Christmas Snow Village imaginable. I must have retrieved it from Dad’s attic. Zeke helps me place the new Snow Village Flattops Barbershop Quartet on a street corner. Dad would like that. Unfortunately, it’s not lit up. It seems Nathan has all the D batteries.
Mr. Swayze and his stallion take us to Neyland Stadium. The Vols have finally beaten the Crimson Tide. I slowly raise my orange and white pom pom from my wheelchair and give it a single, feeble shake. The year is 2053. Moments later, I pass away.
In the final scene, I see Jesus coming back! Maybe next year. Hopefully soon. Regardless of politics, climate change, North Korea, natural disasters, health concerns, or anything else that may cause you angst, God still reigns. He’s got the whole world in his hands. Don’t forget that. And he is coming back! If you take some time to reflect on that this season, it very well could be…the most wonderful time of the year.
Merry Christmas!
from
Da Johnson’s
Merry Christmas 2018, from near Fall Creek Falls, TN!
I’ve never outgrown wanting to please my parents and make them proud of me. Parental affirmation is a powerful force in the life of any child at any age. We can be our kids’ greatest cheerleaders and help forge their confidence, or criticize their every fault and wear them down with negativity. With my mom now gone from this life and my dad in his 80s, I realize the window for me to receive such parental affirmation is closing. That’s what makes this note from my dad so special. He had already purchased 7 copies of my new book…he has specific people in mind to give them to. Then, after power reading it, usually while in the bathtub, he writes, “I’m going to buy more Bible books. Fantastic.” Fantastic. With just a word, a year’s worth of work has been affirmed by a man who helped launch me into this world—a man whose opinion matters. I feel about 15 feet tall this morning, and got up at 5 a.m. to work on the next book. Can I make a suggestion? In addition to whatever gifts you plan to give your kids this holiday, add one more…some affirmation. Tell them you love them…not just for what they do but for who they are. Tell them you’re proud of them. Point out areas of growth you’ve seen in 2018. They might outwardly become a little embarrassed, but I promise you their soul is drinking it up. Other voices matter, but you’re the parent. Your voice booms. Don’t miss the opportunity to tell your kids they are, well, fantastic.
“Baby, There’s Noise Inside”…written by Steve Johnson on the occasion of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” being banned by some radio stations for its insensitivity…and on the occasion of his wife buying him mini-CPAP smear nose plugs for Christmas for his alleged snoring.
(You plugged my airway) But, baby, there’s noise inside (They’ll lock you away) But, baby, there’s noise inside (My snoring has been) Been hopin’ your nose’ll cave in (So very nice) I’ll put your nostrils in a vice
(The plugs cause me pain) Your snoring sounds like a train (My friends will file suits) Your snoring’s worse than your toots (Can’t help that my nasal clogs) But you keep sawing those logs (Well, maybe cut me some slack) You so deserve all this flack
(The neighbors might think) Baby, it’s loud in here (Their marriage must stink) No baby, it’s loud in here (I’ll look so strange) But it’s time for a change (In my baby C-Pap) Comply, hon, don’t give me no crap
(I ought to say no, no, no, ma’am) Your breath is a battering ram (I’ll have to swallow my pride) Be thankful I’m still your bride (You plugged my airway) Baby, you know that [Both] Baby, there’s noise inside
(I simply must exhale) But, baby, there’s noise inside (I can’t let you prevail) But, baby, there’s noise inside (The nose plugs went in) Your snoring’s a sin (Now I drool down my chin) Perhaps I’ll still be your friend
(My friends will be suspicious) What I’ve done is not malicious (I can’t help it that I snore) It’s more like a lion’s roar (What if I stop breathin’?) At least you’re not wheezin’ (I look like a dork) I could have shanked you with a fork
(You plugged my airway) But, baby, there’s noise inside (They’ll lock you away) But, baby, there’s noise inside (My snoring has been) Been hopin’ your nose’ll cave in (So very nice) I’ll put your nostrils in a vice
(It’s time to plan my escape) Don’t make me use the duct tape (When they find that I died) That means it’s quiet inside (You plugged my airway) Guess today’s not your day
Hurricanes come and go. If I’m being honest, my interest level depends on the proximity of my loved ones and their possessions to the storm’s projected cone of impact. I pay more attention to a storm threatening my dad’s Florida condo (occupied or vacant) than a typhoon that threatens the lives of thousands of people in Indonesia. I value all human life, but it’s difficult to become emotionally invested in the fate of complete strangers on the other side of the planet.
As a major storm makes landfall, I watch reporters get pounded by the wind and rain during live updates. It is an exciting and interesting spectacle…the ultimate in reality television. Always a news junkie, I stay glued to my television as the eye of the hurricane makes landfall.
In the days that follow, I hear reports about the devastation and loss of life. I see before and after photos of neighborhoods wiped off the map. I hear inspiring stories of first responders rescuing victims and neighbors helping neighbors. I watch politicians and community leaders offer “thoughts and prayers” and promise to rebuild.
By about the third day after the storm, a funny thing happens. National media coverage stops. They have moved on to the next news story of the day. People outside of the destruction zone have moved on with their lives. That’s to be expected, given our busy lives and short attention spans. As we return to regular programming, we tend to forget the short-term and long-term suffering and hurting of those whose lives have been turned upside down by the storm.
That all changes when you travel into the zone of destruction. My wife and I have had the opportunity to do so in Biloxi, Mississippi (Hurricane Katrina), Beaumont, Texas (Hurricane Harvey) and, more recently, Panama City, Florida (Hurricane Michael). While we build our RV travel calendar around sojourns (sojourning.org), we look for opportunities to do disaster relief when we’re able. It gives our traveling a purpose.
In case you’ve “moved on to the next story,” I’d like to refresh your memory of Hurricane Michael and share four things I’ve learned during our week in Panama City. Hurricane Michael was the third-most intense Atlantic hurricane to make landfall in the contiguous United States in our nation’s history. In terms of maximum sustained wind speed, it was the strongest storm to strike the contiguous United States since Andrew in 1992. It was also the strongest storm on record to ever hit the Florida Panhandle.
Back Yard of a 101-Year-Old Woman
With winds reaching 155 miles per hour, Michael made landfall on October 10, 2018…less than a month ago. It caused 60 fatalities and over $11 billion in damage. Those are facts…statistics. They register for a few seconds…we shake our head…and then we move on with our lives. Or, we can travel to a disaster area, see the devastated property and shattered lives first-hand, pitch in to help with recovery, and be forever changed by the experience.
Lesson Learned #1 – A Badge of Love. One of the neatest aspects of doing disaster relief is the opportunity to meet and get to know the storm victims and your fellow relief workers. One such volunteer is John Powers, a retired firefighter and paramedic from Big Bear City, California. I look up to him physically—at 6’ 7”, he was unable to “fit” inside my Honda Fit! More importantly, I look up to him spiritually. He has a heart as big as his frame is tall.
During a morning devotional, John said that during his firefighting career, his badge meant something. It gave him instant credibility. Whether he was talking to schoolchildren about fire prevention, checking smoke alarms and fire extinguishers, putting out a fire, or rescuing victims at an accident scene, he wore his badge. It mattered. Everyone who saw it knew that John was “legit” and could be trusted, even with their own lives.
John told us a Christian’s “badge” is our love. It gives us instant credibility. We are called to love one another as Christ loved us. (John 13:34) That’s a high standard. If you want someone to listen to what you have to say about God, they must first see Christ at work in your life. They must see the love. If a Christian isn’t consistently demonstrating love (wearing the love badge), he is nothing but a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. (1 Corinthians 13:1) In short, he’s wasting his time.
We won’t win the world for Christ by building fancier church buildings, winning doctrinal arguments, or rendering judgment on the eternal destiny of our neighbors. However, our neighbors might pause for a moment and listen to what we have to say if they notice our badge…a badge of love.
Lesson Learned #2– The Five Phases of Disaster Relief. Each relief worker “processes” these experiences differently. Here are the 5 phases I go through:
Phase 1 – Shock. Driving south on Highway 231 toward Panama City, the damage got progressively worse. Downed trees. Crushed homes. Demolished businesses. Debris everywhere. I have never seen anything so devastating over such a wide area, and I am shocked by it. This can’t be real.
Phase 2 – Sadness. As you start to meet victims and hear their stories, you can’t help but be profoundly impacted by it. Their tales break my heart. With each one, I give the person a hug, but I really want to wave a magic wand and make it all better. One guy lost his home, his job, and most of his possessions. He’s here living at the church building, volunteering to help others, and starting to rebuild his life. I’m proud of him, but also sad for him.
Phase 3 – Dismayed & Disheartened. You start to realize the scope of the damage. What do you say to the person who, in an instant, lost their home, possessions, and job? When there is severe damage on every block in town, and nearly every structure, where do you begin? I would describe it as someone taking one hundred identical 2,000-piece puzzles and dumping them all together on the floor. How will you solve them all? Where do you begin? There are too many pieces! It’s depressing to the core.
Phase 4 – Resolve. We got this! We can do this! We have lots of talented, dedicated volunteers from around the country. The Church of Christ Disaster Response Team has an organized process and a semi full of chain saws and every tool imaginable. The Church of Christ Disaster Relief Effort has shipped a wide range of needed supplies for the impacted community. There are portable showers and air mattresses for volunteers to use. Every meal is provided for us. There are scores of other relief organizations around town as well. We’ll solve the 100 identical, mixed up puzzles known as Panama City one piece at time…but solve them we will!
Phase 5 – Faith. Wait a minute…God’s got this! God can do this! God is the Conductor and we are merely 4th trumpet. This is not about our talents, abilities, supplies and processes. This is about a God who is bigger than any storm…who knows the thoughts, struggles, and needs of every victim…and who is uniquely qualified to heal the broken-hearted. We can’t do diddly squat without God. However, with God, all things are possible. (Matthew 19:26)
MSgt (Ret) Stanley Laidler
Case in point: I had the unique privilege this week to join with several other volunteers in cutting down trees and clearing debris in the yard of 81-year-old Stanley Laidler. Master Sergeant (retired) Laidler is a faithful Christian, Vietnam War veteran and former Forward Air Controller (“Ground FAC”) who was awarded TWO Bronze Stars…one from the Army and one from the Air Force! After finishing our work for the day, our group (including a dozen students from Freed-Hardeman University) circled up to pray for Stanley and his wife. After the prayer, he talked to our group and shared some life lessons. With tears flowing down his cheeks, he said, “You’re going to have some problems in life. Things won’t always go your way. Things like this storm. But listen to me, young people. God is bigger than any problem! Never give up on God!”
I share these 5 Phases because Phases 3 & 4 are time-consuming, energy-sapping, and unnecessary. Give yourself a few hours for the inevitable Shock & Sadness, then put your faith entirely in God and get to work!
Lesson Learned #3 – Adjust to a New Normal.Tim Neal, the preacher at Palo Alto Church of Christ, preached a powerful sermon this morning. He told the audience, many of whom had lost all or part of their homes, that they would need to adjust to a “new normal”. “As surely as sparks fly upward,” man can expect trouble in this life. (Job 5:7) This town has experienced trouble in the form of Hurricane Michael. For many, the “new normal” would include neighbors they might not see again, different places to shop/eat/get gas, new activities (debris removal vs ball games), possibly new jobs (some worked at Tyndall AFB, which was effectively destroyed), etc.
Rather than fight the “new normal”, we need to find a way to embrace it and go with it. Even those of us who haven’t been impacted by a hurricane can become very comfortable in our routines…and agitated by anything that upsets them. We all face “new normals”—the effects of aging, moving to new places, deaths of loved ones, etc. Will we boldly face the challenges in faith, or cower in fear?
Lesson Learned #4 – Orient to New Opportunities. Tim shared that our “new normal” includes new opportunities. Many people were meeting (and even helping!) their neighbors for the first time. Many had encouraged their friends and neighbors to get free food/clothing/supplies at the church building and to fill out a form to get help with other needs (tree/debris removal, mucking out houses, etc.) Although God wasn’t “behind” the storm, could he be using it to open doors of opportunity for folks to share the gospel? Yes!
In fact, earlier this week, we cleared debris and mucked out the home of a man and woman in their 70’s who will remain anonymous. After circling up and praying for the couple, the man teared up and thanked our group. He then pulled me aside and said that they had a long road ahead toward recovery, but that they weren’t giving up. He also said that he and his wife wanted to “return to church” and asked me several questions about the local congregation and what we believe. I answered his questions, and told him we were helping him because we love God and want to share that love with others. He seemed eager to learn even more, and I couldn’t help but think that maybe our group, collectively, had shown him the love badge that John talked about.
The Man in the Doorway
As Tim finished his sermon this morning, I noticed a man standing in the doorway listening. The man is not a church member, but rather an election official, there to help Bay County residents vote in an adjoining room. (Yes, this congregation offered up a room in their building for voting to occur, which is somewhat humorous given all the emphasis on “separation of church and state.”) I got to thinking about the man in the doorway. If the hurricane hadn’t happened, voting wouldn’t be happening in this church building. That means that man wouldn’t have been in the doorway, listening to a fine gospel sermon.
After services, I went over and introduced myself to the man in the doorway. I asked if he needed anything to eat or drink. “How about a Diet Coke?” he asked. “Coming right up,” I answered. I could be wrong, but I sense an opportunity.
“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” – Colossians 3:12
On the evening of June 12, 2018, authorities discovered 54 illegal immigrants in a tractor trailer in San Antonio. The people had been smuggled into the country illegally. The truck had air conditioning and water, but there was no food for the people. Five of them were injured.
What is your immediate, gut-level reaction to that story?
A left-leaning liberal might use the story to make a case for open borders. Is it morally defensible for foreigners to have fewer human rights than people who happen to be born in the right place at the right time? Freedom of movement is a basic human freedom. Thus, all people should be free to move about the earth, unrestrained by arbitrary borders. Besides, our country was founded by immigrants and our diversity makes us stronger.
A right-leaning conservative might use the story to make the case for building a wall between Mexico and the United States. Rather than follow the legal immigration process as others have done, these 54 individuals broke the law. They should be jailed, tried, convicted, and expelled from our country. We are a sovereign nation and our borders must be respected.
That brings us to Armando Colunga, a tow truck driver of Mexican descent. I don’t know how he leans politically or who he voted for in the last presidential election. But he watched the story on the news. He saw 54 detained individuals sitting on the ground behind a truck.
He also felt compelled to act. No, he didn’t rush to post a politically-charged rant on social media. He didn’t shake his head in frustration or anger, turn off the television, and go to bed.
Instead, Mr. Colunga, filled with compassion and concern, traveled across town to help. He purchased seven Little Caesar’s pizzas and received permission to cross the yellow crime scene tape. A fireman took the pizzas from him and distributed them to the undocumented immigrants.
The officers told him he didn’t have to do what he was doing.
“No, I didn’t have to, but they’re my people,” he said. “If they were black or African people or white people coming from London… I would have done the same thing. It’s not about race.”
I don’t know whether Mr. Colunga is a Christian, but he exhibited Christ-like behavior. The note from the margin reads: How can you spot true Christians? They’ll be clothed in compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.
As the immigration debate rages on, we should never place political ideology over faith. While we can discuss immigration policy and what should be done with illegal immigrants, may our first instinct be to get suffering people something to eat and drink. After all, they’re all God’s people.
Compartmentalization – a subconscious psychological defense used to avoid cognitive dissonance, or the mental discomfort and anxiety caused by a person’s having conflicting values, cognition, emotions, beliefs, etc. within themselves.
Compartmentalizing can be a good thing. A businessman, fireman, or professional athlete needs the capacity to leave behind a “bad day at the office” and shift to being a loving and nurturing spouse/parent that evening.
Compartmentalizing can also be a bad thing. A Christian who acts like a Christian in church buildings and when around Christians, but lives an unrestrained, immoral life elsewhere, is unwisely compartmentalizing. After all, God sees all compartments. Also, the fireman who had a bad day may, at times, need to open up to his spouse for support and encouragement–rather than compartmentalize.
Today, with this final cruise blog, I’m going to compartmentalize. Specifically, I’m going to mentally separate the cruise, which was wonderful, from the travel home, which was not.
Our Alaska land/sea cruise was all that we had hoped it would be. My takeaways:
1. An Alaska cruise is very different than one to the Caribbean. The scenery is better and more unique (my opinion) and the passengers are older. That said, if you have younger children, want to lay in the sun on the beach, pay less, or be on a louder/younger party boat, head to the Caribbean.
2. Figure out your priorities, and budget accordingly. Princess, like other cruise lines, has 2 priorities: 1. For you to have fun so you’ll return. 2. To separate you from your money at every opportunity. If you want a balcony room, sodas/alcohol, WiFi, more than one night of specialty dining, a spa treatment, one of the ship photographer’s photos, or to go on an excursion, you pay extra for it.
3. Traveling with family and friends is a blast. Everything from meals to excursions is more interesting and memorable. We frequently chose sitting around playing cards and trivia over the many ship activities.
4. I over-packed. I could have gotten by with half as much and just done laundry on the ship. Among many examples, I brought soap and shampoo and every room we stayed in provided that. That said, bring binoculars or a camera with a good zoom…and a good rain jacket.
5. Study the excursion options and pick a few good ones. We had fun hiking and kayaking with the group and going horseback riding on our own. All three allowed us to see more of Alaska than just the touristy ports.
6. Some guides were excellent; others were annoying. The annoying ones had a tendency to talk too much—to fill every inch of silence, rather than allow time for passengers to visit with each or reflect on what they were seeing. Less is more.
7. Bring an inquisitive mind. What can I learn about glaciers, my traveling companions, the waiter’s background, grizzly bear gender, the town’s history, salmon fishing, or the ship’s propulsion system? Try to learn something new every day. Your life—and you, will be far more interesting as a result.
Time now to compartmentalize the cruise experience into a fun, memorable experience I would love to do again someday.
Now, in a different, more shadowy compartment, let’s move on to our journey home. On paper, the plan looked solid. Disembark the ship, fly to St Louis via Chicago, and get a ride to Kyle and Laci’s apartment, arriving at 11 p.m. They would have a couple of hours to shower, repack, love on their dog, and get some sleep, before having to catch a flight the next morning to Greece. Kyle will be teaching classes on the Greek language and culture, and both of them will be chaperoning with Harding University’s Honors Abroad program for graduated high school seniors.
Let the customer service buffoonery begin…
Our disembarking paperwork showed we would have to go through ship customs, rather than travel “direct to bus” like Kyle and Laci, who had booked our tickets together. Wanting to streamline the process as much as possible, we went to customer service at the Princess lobby…
1. Princess Representative #1…”This happened because when you don’t book your flight through Princess, you have to provide your itinerary online. You must not have done that.” (Untrue. We provided and confirmed our itinerary in advance.)
2. Princess Rep #2…”There’s nothing we can do about it now…the names are with the airline.” (Untrue. There’s almost always something you can do; it may just require more effort on your part.)
3. Next morning, Princess Rep #3…”We fixed your problem. You’re now ‘Direct to Bus.'” (Told you it could be fixed. Still, only partially true. You fixed it, but didn’t give us a little sticker saying so, so while disembarking, we were stopped and an additional phone call had to be made.)
Shifting to United Airlines buffoonery…
4. At Vancouver airport, United scale #1 showed our two big pieces of luggage were 3 and 5 lbs under the 50-lb max. (Untrue. Scale at counter showed 1-2 lbs over max, resulting in a last second scramble to transfer clothes between suitcases and backpacks.)
5. United Rep #1 at Vancouver…“Your flight has been delayed. You might miss your connection from Chicago to STL. If so, you’ll be able to get your luggage. For security reasons, they won’t put your luggage on a flight you’re not on.” (Simply untrue.)
6. United Rep #2 at Chicago arrival gate, makes call to a number that is busy, then tells us…”Your plane just departed.” (Untrue.) “Your bags won’t be on it.” (Untrue.) “Go down to our customer service desk underneath the dinosaur statue and they will help you get your luggage.” (Untrue.)
7. United Rep #3 under dinosaur…”Your luggage will be on the next flight to STL in the morning.” (Untrue.) “The baggage office is closed for the evening so there is no way to get your luggage.” (Partially true, but for the wrong reason.) We asked for her supervisor.
8. United Rep #4, supervisor under dinosaur. “Since you missed your flight and will now have to get a rental car to get to STL in the morning so your son and his wife can catch their flight to Greece, I’ll put in a ‘Special Request’ (ooooh) to have your bags retrieved. They’ll be at Carousel 7 within 1-2 hours.” (Untrue.)
9. United Rep #5 at Carousel 7, first competent person. After researching, says, “Your connecting flight was delayed. It’s now gone but your bags are on it and you four could have been on it too. I’m sorry. I don’t know why we told you to go to customer service, rather than the gate.” (I don’t know either, but thanks for at least caring, researching, and giving us an accurate answer.)
Thus, we rented a car from Enterprise at 11 p.m. for a 5-hr drive to STL. The Enterprise customer service was exceptional.
On the road, we called United Customer Service to see if we would be able to retrieve our bags at 5 a.m. at the STL airport.
10. United Phone Rep #6…”No, I’m sorry but baggage claim doesn’t open until 8 a.m. You can’t get your bags until then.” (Untrue.)
11. United Phone Rep #7…”Baggage claim doesn’t open until 6 a.m.” (Untrue.)
12. United Phone Rep #8, second competent person of evening…”Let me check…okay, the United counter upstairs opens at 5 a.m. They have a key and will take you downstairs to unlock the area where your bags are.” Are you sure? “Yes” If they are unwilling can we call you back? “Absolutely, I’ll give you my name.” (100% True!)
After being up all day and driving through the night, we finally retrieved our bags at 5 a.m. at the STL airport. Without hesitation, the United counter lady took us downstairs to unlock and retrieve our bags. Kyle and Laci were able to shower, repack, and not get any sleep. We returned the rental car and had them to the airport at 7 a.m. for their flight to Greece. We returned to their apartment and collapsed on the bed, with an overgrown, attention-starved Bichon Frise resting on my pillow.
In retrospect, we unnecessarily rented a car ($150), got gas ($26) and drove through the night because United Rep #2 in Chicago didn’t take the time to research and give us an accurate answer. Her mistake was simply one in a series of untrue statements and poor customer service throughout the night. I’ll compartmentalize it in the bin called “reasons to avoid air travel whenever possible,” thus leaving my happy cruise memories bin intact.
Still, I’m thankful. Kyle and Laci safely made it to Greece. I drove through the night without falling asleep. Our luggage wasn’t lost. Our plane didn’t crash. Most importantly, Pita the Bichon Frise got a haircut this morning!
Yes, it could have been worse—a guy on the Enterprise shuttle with us was having to drive his wife and small children to Denver that night because their plane had to divert after being hit by lightning, right outside their window. Yikes!
I hope you’ve enjoyed my Alaska cruise blog, at least the first 11.5 entries, before the buffoonery began. If you’ve never been on a cruise to Alaska, I hope you get the chance some day.
After dog sitting for the next two weeks, we’ll travel to Fayetteville, TN for our next sojourn.
Enjoy your summer, and may most of your mental compartments be full of happy memories of loving family, close friends, and competent customer service.
