Opportunities

by Marsha Ward

Today I want to share my gratitude for opportunities.

First, this blog. When I was a girl, did I ever envision myself typing my thoughts and with the push of a button, sharing them with anyone in the world who could log into the Internet? Well, no! So much of what is available today was only a dream when I was growing up. Not that I'm ancient, but technology and discoveries have moved so swiftly during my lifetime.

I'm thankful for the opportunity to share my thoughts in many venues: books, blogs, websites, articles, newspapers, newsletters and music.

I'm thankful for the opportunity I had to buy an electronic keyboard so that music fits into my tiny house. A piano would fall through the floor, but the keyboard is just right.

I'm thankful for the chance to share music with the members of my church. Today the summertime organist came back to the mountains, so I'll have a six-month rest from playing the chapel organ for the main worship service, but I still get to play the piano or the organ in the women's meeting. I also get to sing during the worship service. I don't play and sing well, so this summer respite gives me a chance to raise my voice in song for a while.

I'm thankful for the opportunity to teach others what I know. This summer, I'll be giving a workshop to a group of writers on writing dialogue. I'm looking forward to that.

I look forward to future opportunities to share my talents with other people. For example, this summer I'm playing Queen Guinevere in a one-act play for the community. I always enjoyed acting in my youth, but until recent times, I've not had the opportunity as an adult to act. Now the pendulum has swung back to give me that chance to be a ham.

What opportunities do you enjoy?

My Day at the Airport

Valerie J. Steimle

If you’ve never spent the day at an airport all by yourself, you are really missing out on something. I don’t mean a couple of hours, I mean the whole day. Twelve hours. I had the opportunity last Friday (April 27) to do such a thing. Trying to get myself home from Albuquerque, N.M., I went to the airport with my brother, father and daughter all going in different directions. Since my brother had the rental car, we all went to the airport regardless of our flight times. My brother and father had the earliest flight, so my daughter and I checked our airlines to see if we could get an earlier flight as well. Sarah got hers to Phoenix and I got mine to Dallas. The time was only 9:35am so we got off to a good start.

I got to Dallas and I was on stand by for the next flight to get the rest of the way home. I was originally supposed to get home at 2am but this was much better. If all went well, I would be back by 4pm. I was excited. I was pumped. I was already planning what I could do with my extra time as I was rushing to my next gate. But as I rounded the corner of the hallway, I was stopped dead in my tracks. Not only was the flight over booked, I was number 23 on the standby list. There was no way I was getting on that plane. So I waited for the 2:15pm flight, and then I waited for the 4:45pm flight and then the 7:55pm flight---all with the same message: overbooked and no room.

There happened to be a Jazz Festival the same weekend and everyone wanted to get on those flights. So I got my boarding pass for the 9:40pm flight and sat at the gate for a nice long wait. By now it was 5pm and I had already taken two rides on the train around the airport to see the outside world. I called my family to talk. I watched a bird chase a butterfly outside the window. I bought some lunch and watched CNN news for a while. I wrote in my notebook for my morning pages and I read my book Jesus the Christ. I looked at pictures on my digital camera and even prayed a while as I sat there. By 5pm, I was beginning to feel like the Tom Hanks character, Victor Navorski, in that movie: The Terminal. Although I wasn’t planning on sleeping there over night, I had that “never-going-to-get-out-of-here” feeling.

I used the rest room a couple of times and bought a pack of life savors. I watched the clouds roll by and observed the little men working to get luggage on and off the plane. Ahhh, the sunset. What a beautiful sight. I made conversation with the other standby victims and watched people rush by to catch their plane flights. By now the 7:55 flight had just left and the last flight out of Dallas, my flight, at 9:40 was changed to 10pm. 10pm!? Come to find out the plane flying in was coming from Canada. Canada?........ to Dallas? I’ll be lucky to get out of here before midnight. I took a walk around the airport mall. What a long day it was.

It’s a humbling experience to be all by yourself for so long a time. The first six hours I became self-absorbed. Only thinking about myself and my situation. The last six hours I paid attention to what was going on around me. I talked to people. I became involved with what was going on in the airport. I helped two older women with their missed flight. I conversed with the others who were on the flight with me at 10pm. That made the stay much more pleasant and very memorable. Finally, we were all boarded by 10:10 and I was on my way home. The time went faster when I was more involved and it didn’t seem so bad.

I will always remember this day. Remember how I felt all alone for the first six hours and how much better it is to share. Remember that the next time—if there is a next time--to open up to others in the same situation. Remember that my day went much better when I thought about others instead of myself. I’ll always remember my day at the airport.

Honor or Insult?

By Faith St. Clair

At 22 years old, my son has not lived at home for more than a month or two since he was fresh out of high school at 17. He left two weeks after graduation to play soccer in London. Although he was traveling with a team to attend a tournament for a few weeks, he announced before he left that he did not plan on returning. He dreamed of playing in the Premiership League in Europe and intended on staying there to make his way toward that end.

I did not have a problem with this. In the corners of my heart, I found a bit of envy. Oh, to be young and stupid and free and full of dreams, ready to tackle the world…

We gave him a couple of hundred dollars as a graduation gift towards his airline ticket, he sold his drum set and we drove him to the airport. When his team left to come back to America, they left him at the airport, alone, $20 in his pocket, knowing nobody, having no job, no international working papers, or a place to stay.

Five years later, he can claim: having played soccer in London, Spain, Budapest and Romania – although never in the Premiership, only semi professionally – having slept in airports, tiny European closets, on couches and floors, having a diagnosed schizophrenic roommate, arriving in three countries with an incognito agent, not knowing the language or anybody there and trying to negotiate a contract, living in villages without running water or electricity, literally fleeing Romania in the middle of the night for his life, two knee injuries, a trip back to the states, a girlfriend, and a telemarketing job.

The view of his exciting, youthful adventures waned as his quest forged him past the opportunity to serve a mission for the church. Although he looked up the church and the missionaries wherever he went and oft times did splits with the missionaries, his choice not to serve his Heavenly Father has weighed heavy on his mother’s heart. Alas, as his mother, I try not to dwell on it because it makes for long nights and wet pillows.

Fast forward to the present wherein I refrain from asking where he is living because I’m certain it is with his girlfriend. His poor choices give me anxiety and although I try to be cordial, I’m told that I need to be friendlier to his girlfriend. He often says that she and I should get to know each other better. He asks me to bring her gifts when she is ill, tells me to spend some time with her, etc. My personal thought is that it is his job to get to know her, not mine. I’ll save the emotional expense until it is time to prepare a wedding.

His birthday came around and I asked if I could take him to lunch. We were both going to leave work and meet at a designated time and place. I began driving when he called on my cell phone and by the number I could tell he hadn’t left work yet. He said he would be right there and instructed me to just ask the hostess for our table he had reserved by our last name. I got to the restaurant and was asked to wait just a minute. I turned and saw…her. I knew immediately that I had been stood up. I fumed for one second then tried to be cordial. At the same time, both our cell phones rang and it was my son telling us that he would not be joining us, to have a nice lunch and the tab was on him. Midway through the corrugated conversation and lunch, he sent her a text message and she excused herself to get a card he had put in her backseat that he wanted her to read. It was a birthday card to him from himself and said, “Sometimes you just have to make your own birthday wish come true.”

I was insulted and angry that he put me in that awkward position and I was truly disappointed that I didn’t get time to spend with him. Yet… I am honored that he cares enough to care what I think. He was gracious in his comments and care of both she and I and I could tell he loved us both.

When my birthday comes around, I think I’ll ask him to take me to lunch this time. Except, I think I’ll send the Bishop in my stead…after all, sometimes you have to make your own birthday wish come true.

Job Interviews

by Terri Wagner

I'm a bit late today because I went on a job interview this morning. It's been 11 years. I was nervous. It's for a web-design company that is looking for a copywriter.

I got the impression from my interview--which involved three different people--that they are looking for people who are web marketing savvy who also happen to write. I'm afraid I fall short in that category. And the most telling was when they couldn't give me a salary range. I take it I'm making more than they want to offer.

The benefits were slightly better than what I have now. And the beat of the place seemed fast paced, exciting, lots of young people. They promote from within first. The kind of place I'd like to work.

Somehow I have the feeling it won't work out. Still, it made me feel excited about work. I guess after 11 years, you just get stuck on what you're doing and it gets easy and you lose that edge.

One reason I was excited about joining ANWA and meeting with Valerie, my lone partner out here in the Gulf Coast, is that it's something new and different. Writing fiction is so hard for me. My writing partner constantly chides me for writing too "technical." But when I'm thinking of where I want a scene to go, I tend to go right to the most important aspect and forget the stuff like scenery, description, feelings.

I'm glad I have this opportunity to work out a new way to write and do it among friends. Hmmm, maybe we could all start a writing/publishing company. Wouldn't that be fun?