Nobody likes to be delayed. I am a person who believes ten minutes early is one time, so I really don’t like delays. Delays are frustrating, but they are inevitable. Sometimes they are annoying. Sometimes they are unexplainable blessings.
I flew into Denver, Tuesday night, for a conference. The plane was surprisingly early—25 minutes or so early. Great, right? Well, then, we spent 45 minutes waiting to get into our gate. Apparently, there had been a medical emergency on the plane in front of us, and we had to wait for the emergency personnel to clear the area. So, now we were 10 minutes or so late arriving. Not a big deal. Overall, the passengers seemed extremely patient. I had nowhere pressing to be and an aisle seat in the emergency row—with no one beside me. I was relaxed.
The excitement of being early soon passed, but it was not so bad. And no one was seemingly late for a connection or anything. I spoke to a student from Australia on my walk to the hotel who was delayed repeatedly on his trip—he had been up and travelling for 35 hours. He showed no signs of complaining.
While it seemed like we were delayed, we actually arrived to the gate pretty close to on-time. So, no reason for complaint. Our lives were scarcely affected (though I failed to engage in conversation with the passengers around me—opportunity missed!).
There have been times that delay has been life-saving. There are more than a few times that I can account delays for keeping me safe. One most prominent in my head was a time when a brief delay prevented me from broadsiding a truck and likely being severely injured. I was driving near Buffalo, NY with a friend. The dome light was out in my little Mitsubishi Mirage, so we slowed to use the street light. A truck passed us—legally and going the speed limit. At the next intersection, a group of teenagers in a pickup truck ran the stop sign, and the truck in front of us hit them broadside. The impact was great enough to send the pickup up in the air for us to see the underside as it impacted a tree. The driver and passenger of the car in front of us were shaken and angry, but unhurt. Had it been my Mirage, we might likely have been severely injured and, possibly, killed. I counted myself blessed in that moment. One of the teenagers was not so fortunate. It remains a sad day in my heart—one that has the lingering question: “Why were the circumstances what they were?”
Perhaps the delays (and times that we are early) are opportunities in disguise. Perhaps rather than causing us to complain, we should look for the blessing contained in the delay. Let’s find the reason to be grateful
Much has seemed delayed in my life, and I would have it no other way. I met my wife when I was 40. We had my son when I was 43 and my daughter when I was 45. If these occurred at any other time on my timeline, life would certainly be different—for them, as well as me.
I trust my timeline. I trust the path I am on. I just need to learn to be grateful and receive the opportunity that a delay might bring.
Carpe momento!