Airline Policy
The voice on the other end of the line was firm: "I'm
sorry, ma'am!" "I am not authorized to release that
information to you!"
I slammed my fist into the phone booth in desperation as a
lump the size of a grapefruit rose in my throat. This was my
last chance, my last hope! I had to know! But all the
pent-up emotion of the last 12 hours enveloped me so
completely that the only words I could force around the lump
were, "But-But . . ."
My quandary had begun at 4 o'clock that morning. A voice on
my answering machine filtered through my fogged brain and
incorporated itself into my dreams. Even when I finally
awoke, my sleepy body refused to respond fast enough to pick
up the phone while the caller was still on the line. I
pressed the "play" button instead, and it was my
brother-in-law's voice that spoke through the recording:
"He's gone!"
All traces of sleep instantly vanished. It could only mean
one thing!
My father-in-law had been struggling with brain cancer for
the past two years. When we had flown to Belgium to see him
two months earlier, we had known that he didn't have much
time left. But in the early hours of that dark morning,
reality was hard to swallow. Why now? Why so soon? Why
hadn't we been given the chance to say good-bye? Suddenly
there was only one thing that mattered: Flying to Belgium as
quickly as possible!
Things are never as simple as they seem, however. Our 12
month-old son was sick. He had never quite recovered from
the six-hour time change of our last overseas trip, and he
still wasn't sleeping through the night. I couldn't see
taking him out of the country again. I couldn't see taking
him on an airplane with his ears already so congested. And
mostly, I couldn't see further disrupting the poor child's
sleep pattern. Besides, a funeral was no place for our fussy
son! But what else could we do?
I tried to put it out of my mind as I called my parents in
California. They had known and loved my father-in-law. They
needed to know he was gone. But my mother's first question
dredged the problem back up: "What will you do with the
baby?"
"I don't know," I sighed, trying to hide my frustration.
Her reply was calm: "I'll fly out this afternoon to take
care of him!"
If my mother had been any closer than three time zones, I
would have run all the way to California just to give her a
hug!
But now we faced a new dilemma. Our plane for Brussels would
leave in the early evening. The earliest flight my mother
could get at such short notice wouldn't arrive until three
hours later. Who would care for my son until she arrived? I
phoned a lady who had done some babysitting for me, and her
reassuring voice temporarily lifted my anxiety: "Of course
I'll take him until your mother arrives!"
There were still other details. How would we get to the
airport, two hours away? How would my mother get to our
house? And when she did, how would she find the babysitter's
home in order to pick up our son? But these details quickly
resolved themselves, too. A member of our youth group
volunteered to drive us to the airport, while another friend
agreed to take care of my mother's transportation.
It was at this point that I finally realized God was
providing for every need, and I set about packing our bags
with a lighter heart.
Anxiety didn't set in again until we were on our way to the
airport. By this time, my parents had already left for the
airport and there was no way to contact them. What if mom
missed her flight? What if she got bumped? What if the lady
at the desk didn't want to accept her last minute
reservation? What if? What if? Though I knew these thoughts
were ridiculous, I became obsessed with knowing whether or
not my mother had caught her flight.
I couldn't do anything but stew about it for the next two
hours, however. The line to check-in seemed to be a mile
long, and then we had to pass through the radar checkpoint
and find our gate. Surely after all that time dad would be
back from the airport! But it was only the answering machine
that responded to my call.
In desperation I dialed the number of the airline. I gave
the telephone attendant my mother's name and flight number,
but all the voice on the other end could say was: "I'm
sorry, ma'am! I'm not authorized to release that information
to you!"
"But-but . . ." I stammered.
"It's airline policy, ma'am. I'm very sorry!"
"You don't understand!" I nearly screamed, my words
stumbling over each other in my rush to get them out. "My
father-in-law just passed away! I'm boarding an emergency
flight for Brussels in a few minutes! I just left my baby
with a stranger until my mother arrives aboard your flight
from California. I have to know if she is on that
flight!!!!"
Though the lengthy silence on the other end initially fed my
panic, it turned out to be sent by God. Without it, I would
never have heard the still, small voice: "My God will meet
all your needs!" (Phil 4:19) A wave of peace immediately
washed over me. "You will, won't You?" I whispered, looking
up in the direction of the airport ceiling. Suddenly it no
longer mattered whether or not I received my confirmation.
God would provide!
That was when the telephone attendant finally broke the
silence: "Ma'am," she said, with enough emotion to make me
understand that she, too, was a mother. "You can feel
comfortable boarding your flight for Brussels!"
Lyn Chaffart