Lessons Learned in the Atlanta Airport

I am writing this from my parent’s house in Winder, GA. Those of you older than I, may possibly have heard of it before as the home town of Senator Richard Russell. That is the one thing of national recognition for which we might be known. But for me, it is a place of memories and comfort.

I ended up here on my way to Philadelphia. I was to leave DFW after church last Sunday afternoon. With the snow, it was a risky trip. However, my flights were early afternoon and, if I could just get out of Dallas, I stood an excellent chance of staying ahead of the weather as it moved east towards my connection in Atlanta.

I arrived at the airport in plenty of time, got checked in, and waited, and waited, and waited. I wasn’t quite sure what I was waiting for. The flight crew was there. The plane was there. It had actually stopped snowing and the runways were clear. However, it was going to be a bumpy flight and they had already announced that the usual beverage service would not be offered. Instead, we were waiting on bottled water. Bottled, I assume, so when the plane makes that several hundred foot drop and your head hits the cabin ceiling, at least you don’t spill your drink.

We finally left, 45 minutes late. That meant I would have a maximum of 20 minutes to make my connection if we stayed on schedule. Add in the time for people to pack their mules with all the stuff they drug on board so they wouldn’t have to pay the $20+ baggage handling fee and it meant I was going to be on the run.


What I learned in Atlanta is that I am too old and too fat to run through airports anymore. I learned that you can’t beg, buy, plead, or threaten your way past a gate agent once they have decided that you aren’t going to get on the plane. It doesn’t matter if the plane is still at the gate and the jetway is still connected to the plane. I learned to take the rental car that is offered because it just might be the last one available in the whole city. I learned that I can still drive on ice. I learned that after 30 years away, I can still find my way around Atlanta to bypass traffic when the need arises. Most of all, I learned, yet again, that God works in mysterious ways. I learned to be patient, to go with the flow, to enjoy the 4-day blessing snowed in with my parents. I was detoured, just like the wisemen of old, and I learned, as they did, that God’s plans and priorities are different than our own, but far more fun and better for us.



Pastor Craig