Destination Unknown
The Sign Beside Me
Ding. I dug into my hoodie pocket and pulled out my phone. The PA overhead called out muffled information. Almost every seat in the waiting area held passengers, most scanning their phones, some stretched out sleeping in awkward positions, and a few staring into space. The smell of burnt coffee lingered in the terminal while suitcase wheels rattled across the tile floor. All of us hung suspended between where we had been and where we were going.
“Hey Babe, they offered me the job. I need to respond soon. What do you think?” The decision sat before us like an open gate neither of us knew whether to walk through.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket and sighed. Sour, stale air lingered in my nose and mouth. Staring out the floor-to-ceiling window, I watched as a plane came in for a landing, hitting the ground hard with a bit of a bump. Is that going to be our fate if we accept—are we meant for a different destination?
My husband and I had been volunteering for a year and a half when he felt that our season was drawing to an end. He sought work opportunities all over the country and many offers came pouring in. This one, in particular, checked all the boxes, except one. The location would take us even further from family and friends, landing us in the middle of the Pacific Ocean on the Big Island of Hawaii.
The thought of missing birthdays, Sunday dinners, and ordinary moments with the people we loved suddenly felt heavier than the excitement of a new opportunity. No more walks or coffee dates with my new friends where we volunteered. No more bonding over shared victories or challenges. I wondered how many more goodbyes my heart could survive.
Moving to Hawaii meant placing an even greater distance between us and the people we loved. Far from my aging mother. Far from my sister raising the two energetic boys I adored. Far from my daughter, freshly venturing out on her own.
I twisted my wedding ring, scanning the spacious, overcrowded terminal. Heat crept up my neck. My fingers dampened against the plastic luggage handle. I was standing at the threshold of an entirely different future. An unknown one. Taking a deep breath of stale air, I closed my eyes and offered up a simple plea, Father, please show me the right path.
Looking up, my eyes caught a young woman with blonde hair and laughing eyes. She smiled as she brushed past me. Her dark pink sweatshirt with large white letters spelled, “H-A-W-A-I-I.”
Are you giving me a sign? If this is really the path we’re supposed to take, I’m going to need something clearer than a sweatshirt.
The flight attendant called from the PA, “We will now begin general boarding. We invite groups 1 and 2 to line up on the left. Please have your boarding pass and ID ready. I repeat, we invite groups 1 and 2 to line up on the left.”
The room woke up. Some passengers stood and hurried toward the line as though boarding early might somehow make the pill-box cabin more comfortable. Others shuffled in their seats. My chest tightened like the clothes in my compressed carry-on. One by one, passengers stepped forward when their group was called. Each person moved toward a destination already chosen.
I dug out my phone and typed my reply, “About to board. Will respond by the end of the day.”
Finding my aisle seat, I sat down and noticed the empty window seat. Knowing the plane was full, I waited for the passenger to arrive before buckling up. People shuffled by as I pondered our life-changing decision. Overhead bins banged shut. I leaned my head against the seat in front of me and squeezed my eyes closed, focusing on the response I needed to give my husband. Peace evaded my heart like a child playing hide and seek.
I breathed in the recycled air deeply in a feeble attempt to relax. To focus. To think. Instead, my thoughts roared through my mind—untamed and howling like a fierce gust leaving carnage behind. Somewhere between the waiting area and the boarding gate, it hit me. I was deciding whether I trusted God with the unknown.
“Excuse me,” a sweet voice said. “That’s my window seat beside you.”
I looked up and there she was—the same girl with the pink sweatshirt.
Both of us buckled into our cramped seating. The chaos in the cabin settled, and the engine hummed beneath my feet. A flight attendant walked by with a basket of earphones. I looked over and asked where she was headed.
“I’m going to a friend’s wedding,” she replied.
“I noticed your sweatshirt. Are you from Hawaii or did you visit?”
“Oh, I lived there for years. I loved it. I had so much fun. The weather was gorgeous, the lei flowers were intoxicating, the ocean water was so clear, the sunsets were out of this world. It all felt like paradise.” She went on and on about the beauty of Hawaii.
And then she asked me what my plans were. I shared with her my husband’s job offer and how I was struggling to make a decision. She listened. She smiled. We talked at length in an easy, comfortable way. Relief inched its way back into my heart.
But it wasn’t long before the questioning returned as I sat uncomfortably in the seat. Turbulence struck. I stared out at the sea of bobbing heads. What if we moved there and regretted it? This decision is too big. How do I know for sure this is the right thing to do, God?
After the plane landed and passengers began gathering their belongings, I turned to thank my new friend. She stretched and smiled sleepily as the line slowly moved toward the exit.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
“You’re welcome,” she replied.
Then she smiled again and said, “I think I’m your sign.”
I froze. Hours earlier, I had silently asked God for something more than a pink sweatshirt. Out of every passenger in that crowded airport, she had ended up in the seat beside me.
A warmth spread through my chest as we stepped through the gate and into our separate futures. I drew in a deep breath of fresh air. For the first time all day, peace finally found me.
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I love this so much Liz! What a sweet and kind way God gave you direction and encouragement, and of course I'm a little biased because you are coming to Hawaii!!!
As a college professor, I often had students come to me for counsel:
• Do I marry him or someone else?
• Do I take this job or that job?
• Should I go on to graduate school or get a job instead?
Without trivializing the matter, it is also important to realize that the question at hand is in His hands.
So, I always told them that there are no wrong turns in Jesus. Assuming a systematic, logical approach, then, the person walking with God need only blissfully rely on Him for the answer.
Easy to say, huh? Not quite so easy to do.