Dozing in the Departure Lounge (an allegory)
Sandy slipped her hand into her coat pocket and fingered her boarding pass. Apart from the ticket she’d been gifted, this was her most precious possession. From her seat in the departure lounge, she glanced around at her fellow passengers.
Her eyes fell on a silver-haired, distinguished looking gentleman in front of her. His laptop was open and he was Googling information about his destination. Every now and then he grunted contentedly. To Sandy, it sounded not unlike a mumbled “amen”.
Across the aisle, a youth flicked back his dreadlocks, popped a pair of psychedelic orange coloured earphones in his ears and swayed gently to some soundless rhythm.
Beside her, a curly haired boy with a freckled nose shared something on his iPad with an elderly lady, obviously his granny. She smiled, nodded and made the appropriate noises. There was a wealth of experience behind her sparkling blue eyes, that contrasted with the wide innocent gaze of the small boy.
All so different, mused Sandy. But we’re all heading for the same destination.
She leaned her head against the wall and thought back to the day she’d received her ticket. She had felt “unworthy” but had gladly accepted. It was at one of those big Rally affairs, the atmosphere charged with emotion. She’d gone forward to receive what was being offered, the ticket that would guarantee her destination. Sandy felt safe and secure dozing in the departure lounge.
An alert on her mobile phone jerked her back to the present. Sandy frowned. Her eyes scanned the text message but her brain didn’t bother to register. She resented this intrusion into the seclusion of the departure lounge. With a quick flick of a finger, she deleted the message, put her phone in silence and shoved it back into her pocket. Anyway, her combat boots were stored away.
Quite content to wait for her boarding call, the young woman slipped her feet out of her pink Classic sneakers and wiggled her toes. She closed her eyes.
Several hours later she woke to feel her phone vibrating. Sandy looked around. The distinguished looking gentleman’s chin rested on his chest; his eyes were closed. Curious, Sandy leaned forward to look at the screen still open on his knees.
“Here we have no continuing city, we seek one to come.”
The dreadlocks to her left were still swaying, although somewhat less energetically. The granny and the child snuggled together under a red tartan coloured travel rug.
Sandy yawned.
Bother that cellphone. Why did it persist in vibrating? Slowly she took it out of her pocket. A voice message? Whatever was so urgent?
Reluctantly she raised the volume and put the phone to her ear. Certain words penetrated her lethargy.
Combat… special mission… Report to base… Immediately.
Sandy sprang to her feet. She was in the wrong place. She was inside, not outside. Sleeping instead of supporting. Resting when she should be resisting.
But wait. Was not her departure time near? Her boarding call eminent? Confused, she looked at her boarding pass; her eyes scanned the rectangular card from left to right.
Her departure time was not printed on the card.
My departure time is not printed on my boarding pass either.
I have my ticket, paid for with the blood of Jesus. My destination is sure but my place isn’t in the departure lounge. I should be outside, not inside. The four walls of my local church are so comforting, and I feel so secure studying about my final destination.
But my place is outside. I have a special mission to complete… wearing combat boots.
*** *** ***
We are all just about to enter 2020. I ask myself … and I ask you … What are the plans for the new year ahead? I agree it is comfortable dozing in the departure lounge but … we have a mission, and it’s outside.
See you on the battlefield.
Kathleen
My book, It’s All About Him
My website: kathleenkeithgillon.com