Arrived in Turkey
You can travel happy or you can travel mad. It's your choice.
Greetings from Izmir!
After a short seven-month stay in West Africa, I have been released to the next season in this journey called Life. The last month in The Gambia felt as though my time was done, yet without instructions on the next step.
I can only describe it as a “holding pattern”.
In aviation, a “holding pattern” is a maneuver designed to delay an aircraft already in flight while keeping it within a specified airspace. The last month often felt as if I was “going in circles”, yet I was being contained until it was time to land in the next location. That specific location was confirmed last week.
“Time to go.”
Some people tell me that you cannot hear God speak, yet I believe you can. These three simple words took me out of my holding pattern and launched me towards my next destination: Turkey.
The way this specific destination was divinely inspired is a beautiful story on its own; I’ll share that at another time. For now, let me simply state that my body appreciates the food in this beautiful nation. While I’ve been here less than 24 hours, my first impressions of Izmir remind me of a pleasant mashup of two of my favorite countries: Spain and Israel.
The people are delightful.
The food is delectable.
And… unlike the previous seven months on this journey, the internet is fast!
The fact that I am here today, however, is something of a miracle in and of itself.
You can travel happy or you can travel mad. It’s your choice.
More than a decade ago, I learned this lesson in an airport.
My flight had been canceled and I was yelling at the ticket agent. Never mind that everyone on the flight was experiencing the same delay; I was publicly expressing my frustrations when a man stepped up beside me, touched me on the arm and spoke twelve words that forever changed me: “You can travel happy or you can travel mad. It’s your choice.”
He said nothing else. He removed his hand and stepped away. Immediately I was embarrassed for how I had been handling the situation. And, I can honestly say that I’ve made the conscious decision to travel happy ever since.
Traveling Happy
My plane departed The Gambia at 2:30 a.m.
Before heading to the airport, I went to meet with Pricha Benny, a Nigerian music producer. I’ve (we’ve) sponsored the recording of a number of songs during my stay in West Africa. On my last night in Africa, however, I recorded the vocals for my song. This anthem was originally given to me at the Heart of Texas House of Prayer (HOTHOP) and expanded upon at Burning Man last year. If you’re following along on my journey, you’ll hear “LION of ZION” when it is released to the nations.
My flight from Gambia landed in Morocco as the sun was rising. Within an hour I was on the next flight headed for Geneva, Switzerland. I’ve never been on such a large plane with so few people. I had the back half of the plane to myself. Only ten people on the entire international flight!
In Geneva, things got tricky.
I was changing airlines from Royal Air Maroc to Sun Express, and this meant I needed to leave the terminal and check back in at the ticket counter to get a new boarding pass. Easy, except that the line for this budget airline was winding endlessly around the corner and beyond. I confirmed I was in the right line and went to the end where I began waiting. Patiently. I had three hours before my flight, so no worries. Right?
About an hour into my wait, a frantic man began cutting people in line. He started at the end of the line and began asking each person in French and English, explaining that his flight was soon and he had not expected there to be such a long line. As he wound his way through the turnstiles I waved him past me.
This guy—who was at least a foot taller than anyone else in the airport—was clearly in a hurry, and what’s one extra individual ahead of me? He made it through another row before encountering someone that put a hard stop to his cutting and told him he would need to wait with the rest of us. All the while, I was watching his technique. To me, predicting who would and wouldn’t let him pass was an interesting cultural experiment. And, it helped pass the time.
He was now a full turnstile wind ahead of me. As our paths crossed, I asked him, “Out of curiosity, when is your flight?”
“3:05”, he answered. He was on my flight!
I chuckled to myself and said a quick prayer asking for favor to make the flight. “God, you called me to Turkey, and I trust you. I also know there is not another flight on this airline until Monday, so if I’m meant to be there, let it be.”
After another two winds, I overheard a Chinese couple wondering aloud if anyone else was on their flight to Turkey. They also looked concerned. I asked them where in Turkey they were going and—after getting over the surprise of a white guy speaking Mandarin—they confirmed that they too were en route to Izmir.
They were polite and were positioned about ten minutes in line in front of the tall man, who was about ten minutes in front of me. I asked them to remind the gate agent that I was still in line and not to forget me. :) They chuckled nervously.
I watched as they finally made their way to the ticket counter.
Clearly, we all missed our flight.
We were late and not going anywhere. The tall “cutter” went to a different counter. He quickly began yelling. Loudly. He was upset.
I prayed again. The Chinese couple waved me out of line.
The gate agent said there was no way as we were supposed to check in two hours ahead of time and the flight was already boarding. The two Chinese politely explained in French that I had been waiting for three hours, as had they. They flashed their UN badges and addressed the gate agent in Mandarin. I chimed in and confirmed what they had stated. Also in Chinese. The agent from Hong Kong paused, gave me a side eye, and smiled.
We had to run.
I thanked the Chinese couple from the United Nations. They had gone out of their way to assist me, and, for their help, I’m Gr8ful.
As they sped off, running for the gate, my boarding pass printed in slow motion. I, too, was asked to run. The tall cutter was still yelling as I quietly passed behind him on my way to security.
He did not make the flight.
YOU CAN TRAVEL HAPPY
OR YOU CAN TRAVEL MAD.
IT’S YOUR CHOICE.
“God, I trust you.” I smiled to myself as I casually walked through passport control and easily slipped through security with an unusually short line. I strolled to the gate and walked onto the flight without having to wait in the jetway. I was the last traveler to board and was seated in an exit row with extra leg room, just behind the Chinese couple from the UN. We exchanged pleasantries and contact information.
A few hours later I arrived in Izmir, just before Shabbat.
Shababt Shalom
When a local boy named Olmer met me at the airport and directed me onto the IZBAN train, I did not yet know the spiritual significance of why I had been called to this ancient land, nor did I comprehend the importance of this specific city: Izmir.
All I knew was that I had chosen to travel happy, and—as a result—I had arrived safely, just in time to rest!
I love reading your blog! You’re such a gifted writer and I feel like I’m right there with you! Such an amazing testimony!
I released a word from the Lord and He used the term holding pattern 🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼