Pastor's Perspective - Just One Seat Apart

One week ago today I boarded a Delta 737 in Sacramento at 5:30 A.M., bound for Salt Lake City, enroute to my final destination of Philadelphia. As many of you know, my 92-year-old Oma died, and I went to eastern Pennsylvania to conduct her funeral.

Admittedly, I like to keep to myself during flights. Those long transcontinental hours are perfect for catching up on my reading, listening to music, working on my book, and experimenting with my newest gadget, my i-phone. At least, that was my plan. God had something else in mind.

Soon after taking my window seat at 28F, a middle-aged woman took hers right next to me. After the door was closed and we realized nobody else was sitting next to us, she scooted over to the aisle seat, leaving just one seat apart. With a bum left knee, the extra space was secretly celebrated by yours truly.

I could tell immediately by the way she fidgeted that she was nervous about flying. I smiled at her, hoping to be reassuring; but didn’t say anything to her until we were in the air.

After reaching our cruising altitude, the flight attendant dropped two bags of peanuts on her tray. She apparently didn’t want them and extended both bags open-palmed toward me with a friendly, “Nuts?” Not being the one to pass up a punch-line I said, “Certifiably.” She howled with a laugh that was part authentic, part nervous energy.

Although I was well into my in-flight magazine reading a fascinating expose on Ashton Kutcher’s favorite international bistros, I heard an inner voice urge me to engage her in conversation. She did give me two bags of peanuts for pete’s sake! (And on planes nowadays, that’s the entrée).

“Where ya headin?” I asked.
“Detroit. My brother-in-law’s funeral. You?”
“Pennsylvania. My grandmother’s funeral. Was his passing expected?”
“Yes. He was very very sick. How old was your grandmother?”
“Ninety-two. A great woman. Already miss her. It will be hard. How long will you be staying in Detroit?”
“Two weeks. You?”
“I’m not going to Detroit.” She smiled wryly as if acknowledging she had met her match..
“My brother-in-law is much better now. No more pain. I believe that. Do you?”
“Absolutely I believe that! I believe there is a greater life beyond the grave. What do you think?”
“I believe that too. I’m fascinated by the after-life. Been reading research on near-death experiences. Something to it all. You know? After we die?”
“I believe that. As a matter of fact I’m counting on it!”
She continued, “I think that you get to keep coming back and back again until you finally get it right.”
“Get it right, huh?” After a short pause I asked her, “So who determines whether you get it right or not?”
She pursed her lips and looked at her air vent overhead reflectively, “I suppose some higher power or being..whoever that might be. What do you believe?”
Without trying to smile too broadly, I looked into her eyes and responded, “I believe with all of my heart that all of us can have hope in this life beyond our deaths, by having a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.” The man in the row in front of us did a lousy job of hiding his interest in my remarks, seizing the opportunity to lean back in his seat.
“Hmm,” she responded, with a warm smile. “I like that.”

For the rest of the flight we talked about books, her job, and her traveling adventures. Although Ashton’s bistro insight was whispering for my attention, showing love and genuine interest in this sweet woman was God’s special assignment for me during the early morning flight. As we talked, I found that though we were miles apart theologically, that she was precious to the heart of God. Had to be, sitting her deliberately next to a knuckle-head like me! We were just one seat apart – so close – so far in ways.

As we taxied into our gate in Utah, she said, “There’s something different about you that I like. I told you all about myself. I’m a bit embarrassed that I bored you with all of my beliefs and stories.” I chuckled and told her that it’s the least I could do for the peanuts! As we unbuckled our seat belts, she turned and asked, “So, what do you do?” Without blinking I told her, “I’m a German shepherd.” She cocked her head with a half-grin needing more elaboration. “I’m a pastor of a church in Suisun City.” Her half-smile turned into a full-blown one instantaneously. She nodded agreeably and said for the second time that morning, “I like that.”

She was nervous about her connecting flight, so I walked her to her gate sixty-three miles away. (Did I mention the bum knee?!)
“Here you go,” I said as I patted her arm, “Have a good flight to Detroit. I’ll be praying for you. God bless you.”
As I turned away I heard her say, “He just did.”

I think I floated onto my Philly-bound flight.

As a side note, I never got back to the Ashton article. Seed-planting and watering was far more compelling.