One of the things I’ve been learning over the last several months is that our life story is in part about how we write it. What I mean is, the same story can be viewed from many different angles.

Your perspective defines your experience.

Take this past Sunday, for example. I got up at 5:30am filled with excitement and anticipation. To be clear, I do not usually wake up at 5:30 this way. Sunday was special. I was headed to the airport for 7am to catch a 9am flight to Nashville. My first time in Nashville, and ironically the trip had nothing to do with music. I was headed there to meet one of my writing heros, Donald Miller, and participate in his StoryBrand workshop. It’s essentially a crash course in branding and marketing that is highly personal, intensive and no doubt game-changingly awesome.

The day started well. I got up on time, nursed Tate, got ready and was even having a fairly decent hair day. It was a slightly bittersweet start, if I’m honest, as I was quietly mourning the fact that we planned to use this trip to wean Tate, but at the same time I felt grateful that doing so would mean a bit more freedom to improve my health.

Anyway, got to the airport, got checked in, got through crazy long lines at security, hauled myself all the way to the nether regions of the airport where they have the small aircraft landing and departing. Waited as per usual for the boarding call, happily reading my book. Boarded the plane, slightly giddy at the thought that I’d be in Nashville in just two hours. And then the pilot’s first announcement that there was a mechanical issue and they needed to delay us by a bit.

Now, here’s where the “pick your own ending” business comes in.

STORYLINE NUMBER ONE: I spent the next almost 8 hours WAITING, inhaling aircraft fumes, being told nothing helpful or of any substance, getting on and off the aircraft three different times as they discovered more mechanical issues, getting seriously hangry and realizing airport food is possibly the worst “food” on the planet, watching as a weather system set in and progressively shrank my chances of actually departing, and finally learned that the flight was cancelled and I would miss my beloved workshop altogether because all of the other flights were either full or cancelled for the next two days…

STORYLINE NUMBER TWO: I actually enjoyed having a day to myself for the first time in I-don’t-know-how-long. I finished reading a book that I’ve been trying to read for two months. I legitimately got something out of it. I engaged with some really fine and lovely folks at the airport (mostly airport staff because they weren’t quite as cranky about the delay as my fellow passengers), I people watched, I reflected on life, I drank more than my required daily intake of water, and I was proud of myself for maintaining a positive attitude throughout the day as I watched others melt down like toddlers who were told they couldn’t have a second cookie. I kept my perspective and my wits about me and kept reminding myself “Better that they find these mechanical problems with the plane while we’re on the ground rather than when we’re in the air.”

Same experience. Two different perspectives.

I admit, I may have chosen storyline number one at the point when – having been at the airport for almost 9 hours – they announced that our flight was cancelled and I subsequently learned that there were no other options and I would miss my workshop altogether. I didn’t yell or have a hissy fit or use any bad language, but I did start to recount the negatives in my head – the waiting, the aircraft fumes, the lack of information, the hangry, the MISSING MY WORKSHOP.

And then, as I was driving back home in the limo that the airline paid for, I started to rally. I realized that God was in this day. He’s in my plans to learn and grow and become. He’s not just in my plans, he’s all over them. The Nashville workshop was not my only opportunity to learn. In fact, 9 hours in the Toronto airport was also an opportunity to learn, as long as I picked that ending. And the Nashville workshop will happen again. Maybe I’ll be all the more ready for it when it comes back around.

Here’s the thing: there could be a thousand reasons why I wasn’t meant to go this time, and I DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE. My job is not to know. My job is to surrender and trust and choose the right storyline.

My job is to pick a good ending.

Today is Wednesday, not Monday, and Mondays are for musings. But today – even though it’s Wednesday – I needed to share this with you. Because life is unpredictable, and you need to share the good stuff whenever it happens.

xo
s.