Maybe that title is a misnomer, seeing as how the first day technically didn't get me any farther than the airport, but it was the beginning of the journey, and I feel like it was significant enough that I need to document it.
As the days got closer and closer to departure, I was beginning to not just realize, but also acknowledge that I was having a little bit of anxiety over our trip. In fact, it wasn't until the first week in January when I knew for sure where Sophia and Noah were going that I even began to get excited about Costa Rica. We had talked about the possibility of me accompanying Tim for almost 6 months, but it was just the very beginning of January, when I finally felt the details coming together and found myself smiling at the thought of our trip. That's when I realized that yes, I had been a little stressed about the details, but now it was time to think about the fun!
But then Tim left Sunday night, in the middle of a snowstorm, leaving me with the kids, a couple of days of work ahead for me, single parenting, and the daunting task of organizing details for 3 kids going in 3 separate directions; 2 of them without me, and the youngest going on a international flight, overnight, with me. Many would call me crazy; I like to think of myself as adventurous!
In any case, by Monday morning, I was beginning to realize that I was more than a little apprehensive about the upcoming flight with Sweetest P. By Wednesday, although I had prayed about it some, I decided that it was time to quit praying half-heartedly and to truly "cast my cares" upon the Lord. I earnestly prayed for traveling mercies and begged the Lord to show favor upon me and Phoebe for 6 hours while in the air. And I pleaded for more faith to believe that the Lord would answer such a "trivial" request.
Wednesday flew by in a blur of preparation. I braced myself for an emotionally ugly good-bye scene with the two older kids, and continued packing what seemed like endless bags. (Except they weren't really endless because I was trying to avoid paying for excessive checked baggage.) Bedtime came around, and I laid Phoebe down as usual, and took the older two over to the neighbors, where they would be staying for the first part of our trip. They were so excited to have a "sleep-over" with their surrogate CO grandparents that they barely noticed I was leaving! Thank God for for distraction; we'll call that blessing number one!
About 9:00, just as I was expecting my ride to show up, I got Phoebe out of bed, packed her in her carseat (why not, I had, after all, been packing endless bags all day long), and loaded up the van. I was so grateful for a great friend to not only drive me to the airport at this ridiculous hour, but that she was also willing to accompany me to the ticket counter with aforementioned endless bags (plus now a stroller, carseat and baby!). We'll maybe call this blessing #2! I should have taken a picture for the record, but I think I was too distracted trying to remember all the important things (you know, passports and whatnot).
I hit the ticket counter just before 10, and let me tell you about the two Frontier agents at the counter. That's right- two. This night shift at the airport is a whole different ballgame than I've ever experienced. It was such a laid back, relaxed atmosphere that really seemed to set the tone for the rest of the night.
My next stop was a newstand store that happened to still be open (truly!) for ridiculously expensive airport priced earphones, since I hadn't managed to find mine ANYWHERE in my house before I left. (Any guesses where they might have turned up?) Miracle of all miracles (minor blessing, perhaps?), there was a store open and I was able to obtain some before even going through security.
Ah, security. Who doesn't dread the TSA experience? Would you believe it was nothing? A breeze. Me, the babe, the stroller, the carseat, the diaper bag, the purse, the two 3+ oz. bottles of milk, and all. We made it through like a cake walk.
I endured over an hour at the gate, waiting to board, although the time seemed to fly. (Pun fully intended.) I kept pusing the stroller back and forth, hoping Sweetest P would go back to sleep, but she never did. We finally boarded, and I know everyone around me was silently cursing their terrible misfortune of a seat so near a baby. Overnight. But would you believe my Sweetest P was so sweet that all those same people totally forgot she was there until we got off the plane? That's right- she was perfect. Absolutely perfect. But that would be getting ahead of the story, since the actual flight didn't really happen until Day 2.
So, as the beginning of Day 1 of the Great Adventure drew to a close, I found myself stepping from the familiarity of DIA to the aircraft that would carry me into the unknown. All the while praying in extreme gratitude for the peace that had engulfed me throughout the day, and in faith that Phoebe and I would have a great flight.
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