Trena Eiden

Last year, some of our kids had plane tickets and were to head our way for Christmas, when unexpectedly, one of their little guys had to have ear surgery and wouldn’t be able to fly for several months. We decided, last minute to pay a zillion dollars in airfare and go there since I believe the saying, “In 20 years you’ll be more disappointed by what you didn’t do than by what you did.” I’ve explained before that the problem with me using the airlines is the limit on weight and this was no exception. I thought the kids were coming to us and I’d pulled out all the stops. Now, I not only had all their purchased presents to contend with, I found a few other things as I browsed the shops in the days before our scheduled flight. It was too late to ship anything and have it arrive before Christmas, so I began to sigh. I’d say frown, but that’s not anything but customary.

I got out our suitcases, filled them up, and kept filling, then decided someone should have cut off my hands when I handed over my credit card to people running cash registers. Our bags were full and there was no more room at the inn. No room. None. Ner. As it was, I decided I’d ask if Gar and I could ride on the wing, giving up our seats to Christmas gifts. I called the airlines to ask if this was a possibility and they said, “Sure, we call that ‘winging’ it.” Little joke. 

I decided to over wrap some presents due to cramming them together, and causing tears. That’s tears as in rips, not tears as in my wailing, but both were occurring. I’d smashed them to such a degree, I felt the Department of Family Services might knock on my door for molesting perfectly good packages. 

The two checked bags, at 50 pounds apiece, made me nervous. Among our clothing and cosmetics, they contained everything else to take for Christmas, including two loaves of Potitca bread, frozen in a bag, weighing 5 pounds. The weight situation was so dire, I pondered if un-thawing them would make them weigh less. A mother in panic mode doesn’t always think rationally (but then I’ve never been accused of thinking, much less rationally). I actually spied an empty gum wrapper in the bottom of my bag and thought, “I wonder how much that weighs, get it out.” 

I realized, too late, that I should have waited to wrap everything until we arrived. It would have taken up much less room as I could have rolled, folded and wedged things, since boxes and bags take up so much space. Then I remembered it wouldn’t have helped the weight situation and it may have been a blessing because I thought, “If I had extra room, I could bring more.” Lord help me, I’m a sinner. 

We arrived at the airport and I was prepared to beg on bended knee to be allowed a pound or two extra. I’d have offered to bear the offspring of man, woman, or Santa’s elf. No need, we were waived through like I didn’t have sweat dripping from my armpits. 

We made connections and at one point had to wait for a plane. Sitting beside me was an elderly woman with long, gray braids, holding a tablet in front of her. She was signing sign-language into it to someone on the other end, and I could scarcely take my eyes off her. I tried not to stare but I had two things going against me. One, I’m a weirdo and two, it was fascinating. The man on the other end was much younger and both spoke, but also both signed. I’d know this because I was bent pretzel-like to see. I became emotional at how precious life is and how much we take for granted. Which one of them was deaf or was it both? I never got to ask because our plane was boarding and she was still leaned in, earnestly signing. As much as I despise technology, it was a great blessing for her and her loved one. God is so good. 

We landed on time, gathered our anvil-weight, elephant-sized luggage and driving from the airport to the kids, Tim McGraw was singing, “Dear Santa, bring her a heart, the one she’s got is broken ...” I can’t be positive but I’m fairly certain I heard Gar murmur, “Dear Santa, bring her a heart, my wife was born without one.” 

Happy Christmas!