Did I Lose My Head With John the Baptist?

I love my "personal space".  Mine is not even that big, maybe a buffer of about a foot.  I have been known to create a wall on my bed with my laptop, purse, and a pillow to create my own Tara, my own plot of the sheets that I swear are all mine!

 Usually the wall breaks down by the paws of one gigantic orange kitty.  Or I take the wall down once my love is in bed with me.

There are times in life when we have no choice about our personal space.  One of them is flying.
Smaller seats. Narrow aisle. Which arm rest belongs to who?
(If you are a first class flyer please stick with me on this, I promise it is not a rant about bad airline food.)

Whenever I fly I prepare myself with a space protecting armor.  I try to get a window seat, if that fails, I go for the aisle.

I prepare to sleep the entire flight, if that fails I download a movie and bring headphones.

On a recent flight I made it down the aisle to my seat.  Not the window.  My other two rowmates were already seated and buckled.

Once I was situated the strangest thing happened.  The man next to me turned to me and introduced himself, hand held out to shake and everything.

Who does that?

I knew immediately that any personal space was not going to happen on this fight.

He told me his name; John. Cheerfully he added "I am a Pastor".

Oy.

This particular flight was taking me to my aunt's funeral.  Not a traditional kind of funeral, my family rarely does that.  A celebration of her life.  I did not make up my mind to go until that morning.  I was fearing it would be too emotional for me. At last minute I decided to take the chance and go.

 My mind was already coming up with bible verses to use in defense of my life as John and I began to talk.  I was unapologetic when I told him I am very happily in love with a woman.

I waited for Leviticus to be tossed my way.  Instead John just smiled and said nothing.

As we talked I found myself opening up to him, telling him about my life, my struggles.  I was rather shocked.  I talked about myself more freely with Pastor John, than I have been able to with my therapist, and I pay him!

I am interested in religions.  As a whole I believe they all pretty much suck.  But I remain interested.  Yes I talk to the Mormons when they come knocking (naturally singing songs from the Broadway show in my head the entire time).

I have a sweet lady who drops off the Watchtower for me to read every week.  I will never be a Witness, but I like to read about it.

I was once very good friends with a Catholic priest. I even wrote a homily for him.

John the Pastor, turned out to be Baptist.

I was sitting next to John the Baptist at 39,000 feet.

I did wonder why he chose me to chat with and not the person on his other side.  I looked over and she had claimed her personal space and was sleeping with headphones.

I waited for the question.  I knew it was coming and when asked I gave my usual reply.  Once I have fine tuned over the years that usually placates the person asking.

"What do you believe in Amy?"

"I believe in love and energy."

It is an honest answer.

At some point I told him something I do not usually share with people.  I am haunted by the number 3:16.  I have started to collect photos of whenever I see it.  The mileage in my car when I happened to glance at it. 316 miles.  The time on my phone.  Even the moment my daughter walked across the stage graduating from college, it was exactly 3:16.

It has become a little secret joke.  As if Jesus himself were taking the time away from his busy schedule to send me little hints that I might need something in my life, something higher, dare I say, I might need God?

John the Baptist told me how he was not supposed to be on that flight, he had taken a trip that was planned for him and not by him.  How he talked with his wife about not going, but at last minute decided to go.  He naturally turned to God and told Him "I don't know why you are sending me, but I am in your hands."

I have prayed with strangers in public before when they have asked.  Mainly because I am polite and I respect other people's beliefs and well meaning efforts.

John asked me if I wanted to accept Jesus into my heart.

To my own shock I said yes.

We prayed.

I cried.

I have no idea why I cried.  Was it because this stranger took the time to actually listen to me?  Was it because I had reached my limit of emotional overload and it had to come out? Was it because I was lacking sleep?

I made a joke about him not asking for water when the attendants came around because I did not want to be Baptized by Ozarka.

John showed me the verse following 3:16 and said, "I bet you stop seeing that now."

Maybe.

The descent began and we exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch.

I am not sure if I lost my head, or he, like his namesake had, but I knew if nothing else I made a friend.

The weekend had some rough spots for me, but I used those times to escape to my room for a few minutes.

John sent me a few text messages that he was praying for me.

I was surrounded by my family who all expressed their love for me.  I made a new family member, part of our tribe.  I laughed.  I cried only once.  I was able to give a small respectful speech that I do not call a eulogy.

I looked around and realized how lucky I am.  How precious is life and love and I felt good.  Deeply warm.

My last night there I woke up in the middle of the night and looked at the clock.

It was 3:17.  I smiled and fell back into a dreamless sleep.








(Feel free to look up John 3:16 and 3:17, also Pastor John Klink at solidrockibc.org)