Dull in Dulles

That describes it. Dull in Dulles. As most of you know I am coming through weeks of the heaviest cold/sinus/cough I've had in years...and am somewhat better, though still carrying it with me to dear old Brazil. I am going to be a prayer minister at a Randy Clark Healing conference, and was praying and hoping for my own miracle before stepping on the plane today. Thank you to those of you who joined in this vigil. I am thankful that at least I felt well enough to pack it all up and go, something I thought looked sketchy even a couple of days ago.

My first flight was only an hour, and I spent it trying to keep the cough down by sucking on ice, using kleenex after kleenex, and remembering the time I sat by just such a traveler and how deeply I had wished they had stayed home.

And now I sit on my long layover in D.C. Dulles Airport, wanting to download this really cool template for my blog (I did download it, just can't figure out how to get it to show up on my page.) My mind is dull. I think something must have shut down due to pure mucous invasion. Seriously. Only a few saw me a week ago when it seemed (I think this is physically impossible but somehow true) that the mucous from my nostrils emptied into my dermis, and my nose and cheeks down to my jawline ballooned out like someone with elephantitis. It was bright red (like a birthmark, honest), and really quite remarkable, lending to stolen glances and stares as I went out in public. I wish I had taken a picture. Then the whole thing peeled like a bad sunburn.

It's hard but sometimes we should document the worst days of our lives, if only to later look back with deep thankfulness that its over. I laid awake one night thinking of the young teen son of Cher in a 80's movies called MASK, made from a true story. His face hurt tremendously, and the only thing that would help was when he would intentionally dwell on beautiful things. So I, rather imperfectly, have sought to find some solace in small comforts: the beautiful spring budding outside my windows, the birds singing as they are released in the warm wind, the calls and prayers of caring friends, the sweet presence of God drifting in and out of the most mundane of days. Even having a soft warm place to nestle in and ooze in and out of sleep became precious to me.

So as I face the nine hour flight ahead, I am choosing to stay in the present moment, aware that the love of God surrounds me, and that it is His call and path I am seeking to follow. This journey to Brazil is somehow a part of it all, and so I am looking to see God's hand even in the next long flight, and trust that He has good things in store in the days to come, even if I face them with sniffles and sputters.

Life itself is never dull. Even suffering has its own sharpness, and the pain alerts the soul to how much was taken for granted before. As I have undulated up and down through the distress and improvements of recent weeks, I have been awakened again to what an honor it is to be alive and to see the glory of God in the smallest of things. Can dullness sharpen you? I think so. Actually, almost anything can, if used as an instrument in the hand of a loving God.