Without Permission
It was a great travel day. Monica and I arrived in Nashville without incident. Our pilot was funny, the flight smooth, and baggage claim was a breeze (at least as baggage claim goes). While I was waiting for the bags, Monica went to get the rental car. I caught up to her, we loaded up, and headed for the gate. There we faced a choice. Three lines of cars, each about two deep were before us. Do we go left, right, or straight through the middle.
The left lane seemed a little shorter, so we took our chance and embraced the fate that door number one might have for us. It did not take long to realize our line was moving at half the speed of the other two. Hungry and a little jet lagged, there was temptation to get impatient, but we resisted and waited our turn. Then we found out why this lane was a little slow. The reason’s name is Karen.
Karen is a talker. As a fellow talker, I can certainly give grace. There are some professions where being a talker could be a drawback. Seems like manning a car rental booth would be one of them. I’ll admit, though annoying while waiting, kinda nice while we were checking out.
At one point she leaned down and looked to me over in the passenger seat. “You her husband?”
It’s vital that you hear that in a thick Tennessee accent for full effect. “Yes I am.”
“Ok, since you seem like the right kind, I’m not going to add you to the contract, you just get to drive when she tells you to.”
“I usually do what I’m told pretty well.”
And this is where a pleasant interaction became a moment as she looked back to Monica.
“You’ve trained him well. Good work. I had me one of those. But would you believe without asking permission he went ahead and died anyway?” She said it through a smile and with great humor, but the importance of that moment hit both Monica and I.
Turns out, they were married 32 years. They had more than 20 grand and great grand kids. Her family keeps her busy, but she misses him terribly. But she made it very clear that she wasn’t alone. I started to wonder if this job was one way to stay connected to people. As strangers to Nashville, we’re kind of alone. But Karen made us feel at home before we left the airport.
Her openness about her life invited us in. It gave us the chance to invite her back. We shared meaningful time there at the gate, thankfully, without a line of cars behind us to cause us guilt.
I’m sitting in our hotel lobby as I type this, getting ready to take Monica to her day of work as I go explore the local disc golf courses and bonsai nurseries. I’ll be alone much of this day. But our encounter with Karen reminds me I don’t have to be. I can choose to welcome those I come in contact with today. To create “home” where I am, and practice hospitality with every interaction.
It reminds me of Jesus on that day in John 4 when he is waiting by a well and a woman comes to collect water…alone. Not a common thing in that culture, a reflection on her place in the community that she came without company. And Jesus creates “home” in that space. He welcomes her in, makes her feel valued and welcome. Changes the course of her life.
I think I’ll go re-read that chapter this morning before I go out. Who knows, maybe I’ll get the chance to be like Karen. Welcoming others by choosing connection.