Good News in an Airport

As I am writing this, Joe is sitting at the Atlanta airport waiting for his flight to Augusta. He’s tired and eager to get home. Mike Rowe (from the show Dirty Jobs) is flying today, and I only know this because I follow him on Facebook and he posted a photo of himself at the airport along with a commentary about traveling while masked. This morning I read not one, but TWO, news reports of unruly passengers on planes. Yesterday there were three. Airports are crowded, flights are cancelled or rescheduled, and people are communicating through masks which promulgate frustrations and hide smiles.

But you know what? I refuse to believe that the only travel news is bad news. Because I know otherwise …

On one of Sister Gaudiosa’s visits with our family, she told us the story of her first time on an airplane when she left Tanzania to study here in the United States. Her flight involved a layover in Germany, and in the process of walking to her new gate she came across her first escalator. Ever.

She was terrified. Stairs that move? She stood to the side, studying it. She approached it, lost her nerve, and backed away again. She didn't know what to do.

Then she heard a voice ask, "Sister? Do you need help?"

It was a German student, male, in his mid-twenties. When he realized what the problem was, he picked up her bag and took her by the arm. "Not to worry, Sister. I will help you."

And he did. All the way down the escalator, all the way to her gate.

After spending a week with us, we drove Sister to the airport. She was flying to Missouri and had packed two very heavy suitcases. When we helped her check in, the agent said there would be an extra fee since both suitcases were overweight. It was a pretty hefty fine.

I looked at the agent and said, "Everything she owns in this world is packed in these two suitcases." And I knew what I was talking about because I had helped her pack them. Inside were her habits made from thick, blue material, her black shoes, a winter coat, and study materials.

The agent didn't say anything, so my husband took out his wallet to pay the fine.

Except there wasn't one. When the agent took the suitcases he said, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it. Have a safe flight, Sister." And he smiled.

Later that evening Sister called to say she had arrived safely. She then told us what happened to her at the gate: a middle-aged man saw her blue habit and struck up a conversation with her. He said that he had attended Catholic schools all his life and had fond memories of the nuns who taught him. Would she allow him to buy her lunch?

And so he did. It was a modest meal—a hotdog and a drink—but two strangers, a businessman and a nun from Tanzania, shared a meal together.

In an airport.

Where good things can—and do!—happen.

A Hankie for My Pocket