The Second Mile

I think I'm growing up after all. Earlier this year, some friends/co-workers and I had to go to Orlando for a conference at DisneyWorld. (I know, life is tough sometimes). So we had a nice 4-day conference, then 3 extra days of touring around the Magic Kingdom, Epcot and such. Good times were had by all. Until we got on the plane to go home. Weather apparently was terrible in Houston, our connection city. If I remember correctly, they put us down in New Orleans for awhile (although we didn't leave the plane) and after many hours we finally landed in Houston. (For the record, never ever fly through Houston in the summer. Ever.) We hurried off the plane, hoping to make our connection but alas it had already left. The gate attendant handed me and my friends stand-by tickets for the next flight into Orange County that left in 2 hours and brazenly said, "Good luck."

I was mad. Now, for those who know me well, I am extremely nice... to a fault even, but when I do get mad, well it's not so nice. And that day, "Good Luck" was not cutting it for me. So we headed straight to the Customer Service desk. "Is this a full flight to Orange County?" I asked the agent. "Pretty full," she replied. "So how are our chances to get on?" I asked. "I cannot tell you that," she said. I looked at my friends. "I don't want to wait and see. Let's try another city." They agreed. So I had the agent check flights into other California cities: Ontario, Long Beach, LAX, San Diego even. They did have 3 seats available on a flight into Ontario, about 40 minutes from our office. AND they could confirm us on this flight. "We'll take it!" I replied, feeling a bit less anxious. I was tired, stressed, and really just wanted to get home and see my boyfriend. Not great reasons for me to get mad at a weather delay, especially after I had just had a nice week in Florida. But nonetheless, I wasn't the sweetest person ever.

So my co-workers and I grabbed some food, and went to our gate which just happened to be across from the Orange County flight we were supposed to be on stand-by for. That flight left about an hour earlier than ours into Ontario. And you know what? Every single stand-by passenger to Orange County got on that flight. Now Mark, Karla and I not only had to wait another hour for our flight, but than travel by shuttle to our office 30 miles away versus the normal 5 minute ride from the Orange County airport. Needless to say, my anxiousness put us in later than if we would have stayed with the arrangements the airline had made for us after all.

So last night I am flying home from Canada and have a layover in Denver. My connecting flight to Phoenix was delayed. I sat in the airport for 5 hours (thank goodness I had bought all those magazines and brought a new book!). I called and tried to get on the other flight to Phoenix but they said it was full. Instead of getting angry, or pushing that they put me on another airline, I simply accepted the fact I had to wait. And you know what? I boarded a plane at 10:45 PM last night while the other flight to Phoenix sat indefinitely delayed.

I go walking/jogging outside a lot and my mom has always taught me "dress for the second mile" meaning the first mile might be really cold, but after you keep going you'll warm up so dress appropriately for the second mile. That's when you'll need to keep up your endurance so you need to be properly and adequately fitted. I think that fits life too. Mistakes you made, problems you endured, lessons you learned have only been preparing you for the second mile. In this new year, make sure to make that mile count. I know I am.

Happy New Years everyone! Be blessed!

Home to Me

I'm in Northern Canada right now for Christmas. Like go to border of Montana, drive 8 more hours, and then you'll arrive. It's freezing cold (-35'C this morning!) and ridiculously beautiful. The tree branches are hanging low, thick with snow. The horses are briskly running around in the white pasture to keep warm and looking like a picture straight from the 2008 Horse Calendar. The little white snowflakes fall down as we stare out the window near the roaring fire and drink one more cup of coffee. And if the sky is clear enough at night, we'll catch a glimpse of the dancing pink and green Northern Lights. I love Canada.

I get teased all the time for being Canadian. My accent when I say "about" or "garage" gets pointed out. I have been told that Canada is "America's Hat." And I've been asked if we still use dog sleds. No lie. But I take it all with a good grain of salt. I am happy that I live in the States; I have spent most of my life in the US. But I am Canadian to the core, maple runs through my blood, and I am so proud to say that. The minute my plane touches down on Canadian soil I form a small grin and feel content. I'm home.

Today, as I was walking around a store here in Bonnyville, while my mum and gramma were doing a little bit of Christmas shopping, I noticed a small decorative picture that said, "Home is where your story begins..." I liked that. Perhaps that is why I feel so at-peace whenever I am in Canada. It's where my great-grandparents settled after crossing the Atlantic Ocean over a century ago. It's where my parents were raised, met, fell in love and had two adorable little girls! It's where I had my first bath, saw my grandpa preach in church, ran through the sprinklers in the summer, and learned to love the color pink. This is where my history began. And as much as my life changes every single day, so much of me developed from the simple fact that this is where I was born. Canada is where it all began for a girl named TammyLee. And because of this, it will always be my home.

I take that in correlation with another little baby whose story began in a manger a few thousand years ago. His beginning was such a simple scene. A young man, a younger woman, a worn blanket on some thick straw. And yet, such joy comes from this beginning. Our church pageant just ended recently, and every time I saw the nativity scene I would get chills. I definitely have a cross pendant on a chain in my jewlery possesion, but if I had my way, I think I would have made a manger pendant too. An empty cross is a beautiful sight in Christian eyes, but a little manger is just as beautiful to me. Because this is where it all really began. A Savior, the Lord, came for me. He is why my story started. He is home to me.

With all my heart, I wish you and your loved ones a very Merry Christmas.