Allison's Airport Tales of Awkward, Part 2

Part 2 of my Tales of Awkward brings us to my journey back home, which entails a very miserable beginning but by the end I bet you'll be saying, "My! How the turns the table have!" Because...well, it's all still so very awkward in the midst of things.

It began with a stark awakening at 3am in Winnipeg on a night which I had received less than three hours of sleep. My body was in shock, for I am certain death ripped my eyes open and shouted with glee, "You have a second chance at life today!" I'm not sure if that was any better than being dead. Either way, my journey was to begin shortly thereafter. Ain't nobody got time for breakfast.

This was a bad idea, because my flight from Winnipeg to Calgary got me nauseous and my layover there was 58 minutes. Here's where the fun begins, so let me put it into perspective for you: I spent the first 20 minutes puking nothing out of my stomach until there was for sure nothing. I then had 38 minutes to find Gravol to hopefully aid in my misery. T-15 minutes to get through security and Customs. The impossibility of this is, well...impossible. When I got through by pleading with people to let me ahead of line, I had about 7 minutes to run across a new terminal that was barren until the very, very end where my gate was. By the sweat of my brow and the mercy of the Lord, I made it to the gate just when the attendants were announcing the final call for anyone else to board.

I got to the plane and my body was like You have made terrible decisions today. We will talk about this later. And so the flight attendants ended up holding the plane for me for at least ten minutes while I started to puke again (that Gravol pill never stood a chance). I told myself I had to get on the plane so I could be home for Christmas, but when I actually sat in my seat, I realized I was actually--seriously--going to pass out 40,000 feet in the air and the only way to deal with my body would be to throw it out the door. Which they wouldn't do but it sure was inspiration for me to make a very weighty decision. I asked to get off the plane, and watched it fly away.

The attendants called the medics and there I was, on the floor in this private little corner with wires being stuck to my forehead and ankles. If I sat up, my heart was going to grow an arm, rip through my chest and punch me in the face, so I didn't move less I got a nosebleed.

They asked me so many questions, I made so many jokes about Canada, and then just when I developed a good relationship with these people, they told me I couldn't fly Air Canada again until I went to a doctor and had them sign a release form for me.

People. Do you know how expensive it is to go to a doctor in a country you're not from? My tears were crying tears. I was shipped away on a wheelchair (seriously, I was not up to par but I thought I'd be sitting in the hospital with IV's stuck in my arms forever at the rate things were escalating). Instead of spending $500 to get a ride in the ambulance (no thank you), I got one in a Taxi Cab to the nearest hospital.

This was my first cab I've ever been in and I'll never forget it because somewhere along the way, the cab driver and I started talking about missions and being a Christian and this guy tells me that it's all pointless and that the only thing that matters is working hard and living a simple life.

Guy. I may be dehydrated like a raisin addicted to tanning beds, but his efforts were eternally in vein. I said nothing except that love is far more satisfying than working for a living, but he ignored that and later started telling me that my brothers didn't love me the same way I loved them. Excuse me, Satan. Step aside; I've got work to do.

Anyway, I got to the hospital dragging my luggage back and forth until I talked with Nina--the woman who literally changed the entire day for me. When she told me I was looking at $4,000 to see a doctor (registration and out-of-country and blah), she saw the tears well up in my eyes. She took my hand and told me everything was going to be okay. She told me to go to a clinic, which was only $150, called them for me to make sure they could take me in, and gave me her personal phone number so if I had any problems, I could call her. Nina, I lost your number a few days later but someday I'm going to tell you how much your compassion meant to me and how it changed my experience entirely.

So it's obvious that I wouldn't be able to get on another flight that day, but thank goodness one of my cousins lives in Calgary and just got back from Australia three days prior (what a close call!). She and her brother were on their way to pick me up while I waited in the ER sitting area.

And, as I should have expected, the ER is the one place you can find someone who needs encouragement more than yourself.

I was sitting there when all of a sudden this girl about my age sat three seats down from me weeping. My heart snapped. I did the one thing I learned from BSSM and took a risk, so I grabbed a tissue box, put it beside her and knelt in front of her so she could see me while she cried. I didn't know exactly why I said it, but I said, "Hi, there. My name's Allison and I'm here to represent humanity and tell you that we don't all suck, and that there are those who love you and who are good people. I just want to let you know that everything's going to be okay. Sometime's it's good to cry by yourself, but I'll be right over there if you need someone to talk to. Okay?" While I was saying this, I started to cry with her, and it was like Jesus took my heart and wired it to hers. For a few seconds, I felt the compassion for her that Jesus did. The moment I took my seat, her friends came to comfort her; it was perfect timing!

When my cousins came to pick me up shortly after, this girl parted from her friends, came up to me and said, "I just wanted to let you know that what you said earlier made my day. Thank you so much for that." I told her that I had a pretty miserable day, too, but if I had to relive it again just to encourage her in a crisis like that, I'd probably do it again. She gave me a hug and left, and I'll likely never see her again.

The story wraps up with me spending a few extra days with my cousin I would've never been able to see for probably a few more years. Such an awful start ended with such an unexpected ending! I was able to make it home on Christmas Day, and now I look back on my Airport Tales of Awkward and really cherish the laughable and even sincere moments that I had. It feels unbelievable, but maybe I was at the right places at the right time just to give someone a laugh, encourage them, or to tell the cab driver that love is all that matters in the end.

So if you feel like your life is a summary of awkward moments, please remember my stories. Someone was touched by them, even if it came from reading a blog about those moments that you will be cringing at 30 years from now while brushing your teeth. That's a fine life, I'd say!

My how the turns the table have!

Allison's Airport Tales of Awkward, Part 1

The above picture is me laying in a firepit contemplating the meaning of airports and, why did God make me so awkward in them?

I've flown by myself many times before, but no time will ever be as awkward and dreadful and awkwardly dreadful as my round trip to Winnipeg this Christmas. The awkward part was my way up there, when apparently I lost all my wits about me all day long. Such as, I found myself forgetting which way the line goes in Starbucks so I stood at the front and then this lady was like "what." and I was like "what." and it was a very uncomfortable moment that I'll remember thirty years from now when I'll be brushing my teeth.

Also, as my last flight came into Winnipeg at 1am, mostly everyone was sleeping but I thought hey, maybe I should turn off my reading light now and let the poor people sleep in darkness. So I pressed the light button and apparently I was just kidding because I pressed the flight attendant button instead and I was horrified that all the attendants would come rushing to my aid as if I were on fire, so I had to shout as quietly as possible in the most gooberish way you can think of me saying, "Uh--N-no! No, I meant to press the...the light button...!" And the guy sitting next to me was laughing. I saw you, Guy.

Most hilarious part, though, was when I had to talk to the Customs Officer (you know, so they can see if you're rational enough after 1am to let you into the country). So the officer's desk was fashioned in such a way where there was about a one-inch gap from the build of the table to the actual desk of it. Seeing as it was 1am and my eyes were glossed over, I thought there was perhaps a glass casing in front of the officer (you know, guns and stuff--a normal Texan assumption), so I had to pass my documents through this awkwardly-sized one-inch gap.

So I passed him my customs form, which he received quizzically. He asked for my passport, for which I began to struggle with trying to get it into the gap because I was so tired and the passport was slightly worn open. I kept poking at it until the officer put his hands on top of his desk and said, "You put it right here, ma'am."

I stared at his hands on the desk absolutely amazed--for I thought how can his hands go through that glass wall? But then, I realized woe is me, for there is no glass wall and I have proven to look like an unworthy goober to step foot into Canada. So I gave him my passport (sheepishly) on the desk--where it should have gone.

Then--get this--he asked me, "So where you goin'?" And I kid you not, my eyes slowly floated up and to the right, slightly parted focus and I had zero thoughts working for me for about thirty straight, quiet seconds. And then I realized for every second I was spacing out, so was my percentage depleting to get into Canada. My eyes clicked back together, I slowly brought them back to the officer and I said, "Um...Steinbach. Yeah. Steinbach." He managed to ask me one more question before realizing I was a lost cause and somehow let me into Canada anyway.

Then I realized my luggage got sent to Calgary instead of Winnipeg and there went my parka and snow boots for the first time I'd be stepping out into the winters of Manitoba (it was -1'F/-18'C that night). The compassion of my friend was the only thing that kept me alive.

There were probably thirty more awkward things that happened to me that day that the Lord has miraculously wiped from my mind, but my tale is only the beginning. I have only spoken of the awkward part, and not the dreadful part where I was trapped in Calgary as an ill little goober for a few days on my attempted journey back to Texas! That will be Part 2 of Allison's Airport Tales of Awkward.

Anyway, moral of this story is that if you're not Allison, you can be assured that your airport experiences won't be as awkward as mine. And that's a fine life! Trust me.

I Survived the Nope Nope Challenge

You may not know what a Nope Nope is but it's something that, when explained, will probably sound familiar to you. I decided that for a whole month, I wouldn't involve myself with social media. You may call it taking a fast/break/detox/whatever, but I decided all those words sounded really intense. So, to goob it down, I called it a Nope Nope. If someone asked if I saw this or that on Instagram or Facebook (which happened almost every day), I'd say, "I am Noping. So nope." And it gave my experience quite the comic relief.

And let me tell you, I needed that comic relief because Noping was painful.

This is something that's hard to admit for anyone--to say that being away from social media is actually painful. But it makes for a great Allison blog where vulnerability and humor come together, shake hands and slap a puck around with hockey sticks (at least, that's what goes on in my head whenever I write. Now you know my secret).

People have their reasons why they go on fasts (or nopes), and they all go about it in different ways. And guess what? They come back learning different things--or nothing at all, which is also okay. For myself, I decided not to even post on social media that I was vanishing like the great Houdini (it was a very spontaneous decision anyway), because it didn't matter if anyone noticed or not. The experience was for myself!

And quite the experience it was, for the first three days I have to admit that I felt the "withdrawal", which sounds like a severe word but it really means, in this context, the absent feeling of something I had often. If there is one thing I learned through this silent month of my life (very silent) is this:

Evenings are meant for self-reflection. Am I the only one that lays my head down at night when all is quiet and there is no one to bother me, and my mind thinks of my day, or something that happened 5 years ago that makes me cringe still when I brush my teeth sometimes? No. I am not that strange to be the only one who does this. Self-reflection in the evenings are natural for anyone and is in fact a very healthy thing. We remember things we didn't like about our day (or our life choices several years ago) to help us make better choices next time, and we remember things we loved about our day (or experiences from way back) to help us look forward to the next, and so forth! Mornings are also important like this and how you determine to start you day means everything.

The problem I didn't realize I had was that I was on social media before I went to sleep and as soon as I got up. When I went on the Nope Nope, the absence at night and the morning was horrifying! I didn't have that bright screen searing my eyes to raisins, distracting me from how I felt inside. All this junk was in there that I kept avoiding because gosh darn it I really wanted to watch little wiener dogs play Cops and Robbers.

But today is my first day coming back from the undead (the land of the Nope), and I can tell you that I learned to fill that empty feeling in my heart with lots of Jesus. I would have never known I needed it unless I kicked my social media habits to the curb! I'll be sure to keep my nights and mornings open to comfortable silence before opening Facebook to a world of chaos (where I like to sprinkle goober things because that place needs a lot more giggly chuckles).

Anyway, I'm not writing this to persuade you guys to do the Nope Nope (good luck if you do; you're gunna need it--and a Kleenex box). But I really want you to think about how you spend those last few minutes before you close your eyes. Your phone is a very loud device and if you're not careful, you might miss some golden opportunities to let Jesus in and sweep up that dark abyss of a closet you have.

Pretty sure Jesus found Gollum and a few chocolate wrappers in mine.

So, yeah...moral of the story is: the Nope Nope Challenge definitely makes for a finer life. And who wouldn't want that?

Born a Worthy Winner

Aight, peeps, this story is 'bout to blow yo mind cuz I went from a $200 guitar to a $2,000 one in literally three hours because Jesus. BECAUSE JESUS.

Buckle up.

It all started with a conversation I had with my pastor before worship band practice began. It was one we had maybe two years ago when I just started playing in the kid's worship team, and now that I'm in the big people band (that's what I call it), he brought it up again starting with the familiar, "Allison, you need a new guitar."

"Nah, this one's good." It played fine, it didn't need anything special, it wasn't broken.

And that was that.

But no it wasn't, because he then insisted I needed one--specifically a Taylor Guitar. Do you know how expensive those things are? All the money, I tell you. All of it. Preposterous, I thought, for the guitar I had been using for the last six years worked swimmingly for me and if my wallet could've talked to my pastor it would have said, "Nope. You cray."

"You have to confess that you have the money for it!" He said anyway. Good pastoral response. So a part of me said what I did to get the subject off my shoulders, but also a part of me thought what if?

So I said, "Fine. I will have $2,000 to buy a new guitar." You happy?

Apparently I sure was gunna be in a few hours.

---

I kid you not, people, I woke up that morning thinking I needed to make me some coffee because service was too early for me. But Jesus had a different plan in mind, I tell you, and I did not see it coming. After the service was over and I was preparing to put away my ordinary but highly appreciated guitar, a gentleman approached me and the first thing he said was, "You pick whatever guitar you want and I'll buy it for you."

I stopped and stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"...Are you serious, though?"

"Yes."

And my face contorted until I began to cry, and I probably cried four more times after that, because when I asked Jesus why, He told me it was because He loved me and He heard me.

Within the next three hours, this couple took me to the city and bought me a Taylor Guitar for $2,000 without even hesitating. I picked up the first one I saw and it was the last one I walked out with. I didn't know my pastor was so right that I needed a new one. It sounded so much better, made of wood that's custom tuned to the guitar itself, each Taylor being uniquely different than the next (if that doesn't represent me as a human, I don't know what does). So I traveled back home in a daze, my palm planted on top of an instrument worth so much and the entire time God kept telling me you're worth even more than this.

So I picked a suitable name for him, my Taylor Guitar--because, yes, I am that cheesy human being. With my recent love for Korea, I named him Sunsangji Hyeon. The name means Worthy Winner.

Every time I'll pick up Sunsangji Hyeon, I'll remember that I am worth more than an instrument, but that I was born to win things like it because the moment I was born, I was born to be loved by God.

And I think I could keep writing forever because this is a blessing that I will always be processing (and no word in any language could sum up the gratitude I feel toward the couple who generously blessed me), but I can end with a scripture that wraps it up all nice like a gift on Christmas morning:

"God can pour on the blessings in astonishing ways so that you're ready for anything and everything. more than just ready to do what needs to be done. As one psalmist puts it,

He throws caution to the winds, 

giving to the needy in reckless abandon. 

His right-living, right-giving ways 

never run out, never wear out.

This most generous God who gives seed to the farmer that becomes bread for your meals is more than extravagant with you. He gives you something you can then give away, which grows into full-formed lives, robust in God, wealthy in every way, so that you can be generous in every way, producing with us great praise to God." 

(2 Corinthians 9:8-11 MSG)

Now if you'll excuse me. I have lots of excited feelings I still need to process.

Big Beginning, Little Launch

"If you think you can accomplish your dream on your own, you're not dreaming big enough!" 

- Bill Johnson, Bethel Church Pastor

Well gosh darn, I thought to myself at that moment, sitting there in class. I have hardly dreamed big enough yet! I must pursue a dream so big that it scares me.

And so I did. This was the origin story of the biggest dream I've ever faced to conquer in my life--but for now, this is not about my dream but about yours. Stop for a moment and think about it! What are your dreams? What do you want to do before you die? Are they so unbelievable that they would need the grace of God to actually begin in the first place?

That is truly how big we should all dream. To need God involved in every step of the way, for the destination is so impossible to reach that only God can help you accomplish it. He wants to show you how possible he makes impossible things! And imagine that? If you had no fear of failure for anything,what would you do?

Bungee jump? Climb the Alps? Ride a freaking lion to Mount Doom? Heck yes I would.

God wants us to expand our horizons and give us things that we can't even imagine ourselves! If you aim for higher, He'll give you what's on top of that yet. Of course, I can sit here all day and type forever about dreams and inspirational quotes from the heavens. So here's three great steps to help you get to where you want to go, with the grace of God on your side (from as much life experience as an almost 22-year-old goober can afford to give anyway):

STEP ONE: ALWAYS BELIEVE IN GOD
"God can do anything, you know--far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us." (Ephesians 3:20 MSG)

...enough said.

STEP TWO: PICK THE BIGGEST DREAM
Pick the one that you would do if you would not fail! Pick the one that screams you've accomplished what you were born for. (Asking God is probably a good idea. Listen--and He will answer!)

STEP THREE: START WITH THE BIGGEST, GREATEST, GOSH-DARNEDEST MIGHTIEST POSITION
Otherwise known as: On your knees. Because let me tell you, to get to your biggest dreams requires you to start at your smallest step. Wash those dishes at work. Treat your customers with love, even the rude ones. Help your mom take out the trash.

Eventually you will find that you have enough money to go and do things that lead you to more things that touch the hearts of more people, that let you bungee jump 32 times instead of only once, that give you a whole zoo instead of just one foreign animal. With me, when I took care of my closest friends, he gave me international friends from all around the world that now welcome me to visit their countries any time! This was a huge desire of my heart, and He gave it to me because I took care of what I already had. Before you know it, God will expand your domain.

My dearest friends, the biggest step is indeed the one that makes you the smallest in all the highest regards in heaven. Please remember this: never despise small beginnings, because they will always get you to great destinations.

The Biggest Beginnings always come from the Littlest Launches!

And that makes for a fine life, oh yes! Up there in the stars, where God will make available to you!

Unique; A Goober's Definition

u·nique

yo͞oˈnēk/

adjective

1. 1.

   being the only one of its kind; unlike anything else.
2. 
   

It’s come to my attention that I’ve gotten the meaning of unique wrong. I always thought unique meant I had to be someone that everybody else was not. My personality had to be different, my thought process had to be different and most importantly: my dreams, goals and ambitions in life had to be completely different than everybody else.

The thing is, it was (and still is) quite easy for me to do all those things effortlessly. I never had to try and be different; I just was! Ever since I was four years old, I refused ballet lessons and wanted to play with dragon and dinosaur toys than Barbie and some freak little kitchen thing that could conjure minuscule cupcakes from nowhere.

Being unique is my calling; a sort of prophetic word that’s defined my life since I was twelve.

But it took me these last ten months to realize I had the right word defined wrong.

It all started with my sudden passion for Korea (Check out my blog about that), where I couldn’t help but to spew out my feels for it like it was coming out my ears. Everyone I met, if at all interested, heard straight from me how much I love that country and their people and, most of all, how I aspire to go there someday.

Little did I know that I would “accidentally” influence over a handful of friends and family who would, too, succumb to the feels of Korea just as I did. My one unique dream became ten others’ unique dreams, which to me felt like tens of thousands. No longer was I the only one that loved Korea unconditionally. No longer was I the only one that knew I had a calling to go there and do something awesome. Now it felt like everybody else did, too. And worst of all, it was my fault.

To be honest, which is my only level of transparency anyway, I found myself getting bitter every time somebody told me they loved Korea. “I love this song they have, and I want to go to Seoul, too, and we should go together, and I think Asians are cute now, too! Thank you for showing me this; I can’t believe I’ve been so ignorant of Korea all my life. I just know I’m called there, too. Let’s definitely go there together. If you go without me, I’ll be so jealous. You won’t get mad at me if I go without you, would you?”

What.

HOW COULD I LET THIS HAPPEN TO MY ONE AND ONLY UNIQUE DREAM? Was the thought that started creeping up on me.

After some epic thought-battling for several months knowing that I was being a poophead about this, I finally decided to surround myself with some healthy-minded people that were unbiased to my Korean feels, whom I explained to them my troubles.

It’s funny how ten months of fighting such terrible pride and potential bitterness could be solved within ten minutes of just talking to the right people about it.

It came to my attention that having so many friends and family on the same ship could (and will) propel me into my own calling to Korea and that “even though all your destinations are the same, your own goal is completely different” (as told by a Korean-like-minded friend). No one person has the same exact destiny as the other--even the slightest difference in the most alike dream makes the outcome vastly distinct. I could go to Korea to teach, and so can another, but my goal would be to change their lives and not just their education.

So, as you see, after much processing, I've re-defined what unique really means:

u·nique

yo͞oˈnēk/

adjective

1. 1.

   Although I am one of a kind and my dreams are specifically assigned by God to be my own and not another's, there are many alongside me (and I alongside them) to support one another into one common destination, through many different routes unlike anything else according to God's perfect design.

Of course this type of revelation will take my brain some time to re-route new thinking, but after discovering it, it'll definitely make my life finer than before. And yours, too, rest assured!

By the Way, You're Awesome

I figured out something this week: spiders are out to get me. But also: encouragement is contagious.

Now that's something that I didn't learn at BSSM, because it came naturally to everyone in an environment like that! They're all about "pulling the gold out of people", a personal tag I've received for myself. Always edifying, uplifting and encouraging someone no matter how much junk is around that block of solidified awesomeness.

SO let's start here: I just moved back to Texas after an exciting adventure with my family in an RV (sounds like a movie, but it didn't involve any gross porter potty incidents *thank you, Jesus*). As warned, transitioning from the Bethel atmosphere (after growing some thick roots) back to where I grew up (where my roots were previously Before-Serum-Steve-Rogers scrawny) would be difficult. The transition meant I'd have to re-adapt to this environment.

The biggest difference would be what I've quickly discovered: Where's all the freebies of encouragement? Outside of BSSM, encouragement is not commonly given just to give. It's earned, unfortunately. Encouragement comes when people ask for it, when people are sad or losing at something. Things like that. At BSSM, encouragement was in the mouth of every friend, of every teacher, inside my binders and secretly hidden in my pockets and in my livingroom and by the beach. It was everywhere.

Laying that down like a fancy yellow brick road to a magical point, I have quickly discovered that God is my greatest source of encouragement ("YOU CAN PAINT THAT WALL, ALLISON. JUST. DO IT. DON'T LET YOUR DREAMS BE DREAMS." ...true story), but also I can be the one thing that breaks the atmosphere with a giant Thor hammer of Encouragement.

Finally, here's the thing that happened that struck me with this revelation! *hoorah!*

I was eating at a Japanese Steakhouse with my good pal, and you know that super awkward moment when you're seated with a whole party of like 6 other people just to fill the whole table for the chef? Man, the air gets real thin after the first few minutes. Like. Make eye contact? Say hello? List three facts about yourself? I had no idea what to do, because to your surprise, I am also an awkward human being.

ANYWAY, by the end of the dinner I loosened up and I was very impressed with our waitress's job. So I told her so, and not just, "You're doing great!" But, "You're doing such a good job and it really impressed me. Keep up the good work because you're doing something right!"

Then, to my surprise, everyone at the table agreed and then proceeded to pile up the encouragements and I could just see the waitress's eyes light up.

This is what I live for, was my thought. I don't need to pray for the sick every day to see God's revival still burning in me from BSSM. Simply, it looks like refusing to conform to silence, and to punch Satan in the pig-snout with telling someone, "You're better than you think you are, and I'm going to sit here and tell you why."

This, my dear friends, is what a Fine Life looks like.

Because encouragement is contagious!