Today went as planned in that I got up, drove to BWI, returned my rental car (which, in the end, I quite liked: it used a whopping five gallons of gas over four days of heavy use! Woohoo hybrids!), and flew back to Oakland. But given that I'm dead tired and don't know what else to write, I'll share an experience from my Baltimore-to-Phoenix segment of the journey. I was in the window seat next to an older lady. We exchanged a few pleasantries after boarding: she asked me what I do for a living, I offered her some gum. Then we each got out a book and began reading. A few hours into the 4 1/2 hour flight, I pulled my jacket up around my neck and dozed off. As I lingered between sleep and wakefulness, I vaguely heard my row-mate request a cup of tomato juice. And long story short, a few minutes after that, I was wearing most of it. I don't really know what happened, but the feeling of that cold, sticky liquid rapidly seeping into my jeans jolted me back to consciousness in an uncomfortable way. (In case you're wondering, this is what dried tomato juice looks like on denim:)
In that moment, as it pooled underneath me in my seat, ran down my leg, soaked the sleeve of my jacket, and we both scrambled to find napkins, I felt a flash of anger. But I took a breath, and all I said was "it's fine. I know it was an accident."
And that's exactly what it was: an accident. I know she was embarrassed and felt badly, and I certainly had no desire to make her feel worse. But I also had five hours of travel left, and sometimes it's hard for me to take the high road, especially when I'm tired and unexpectedly wet and/or dirty and eager to get home.
So today, I'm thankful that I was able to keep a level head, because let's face it: we all need a huge helping of grace every single day. Since grace is given so freely to me, I can't rightly withhold it from someone else, can I?
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