Blessed and lucky

By lunchtime on Thursday, I was on a flight headed out of Christchurch. I'm not embarrassed to say that I clutched my boarding pass like a winning lottery ticket. I was tired, both physically and emotionally.

Once on board the aircraft, I tapped my foot impatiently, willing the other passengers to just hurry up already. A speedy departure, however, was not in order.

Just as the plane began to taxi to the runway, there arose a sudden commotion two rows in front of me. An elderly lady had slumped over in her seat and stopped breathing. The cabin crew sprang into action, with an oxygen bottle and encouraging words, "Keep breathing, nice big breaths, there's a good girl."

I really thought I was going to completely lose it at that point.

The plane rolled back to the gate and the paramedics took the poor woman away in a stretcher. I'll never know whether she was simply overcome by the events of the previous days or if something more serious had taken place. I pray she is recovering in a hospital in Christchurch.

The flight to Auckland was almost an hour long but it seemed like years. I was a bit wobbly when I disembarked, but ever so happy to meet up with my colleagues there. I was spoiled utterly and completely--whisked away to fill out the paperwork for a new passport--shepherded to buy new clothes and toiletries--and then after a blissful shower, installed on a sunny couch where I proceeded to take a three hour nap.

I may have been their quietest house guest ever. I woke up around 8 pm, chatted with my hosts and ate dinner, and was back upstairs and in bed before 9 pm.

The next day was easy. I took a long walk through downtown Auckland and felt some of my bottled up tension subside.

The flight back to the U.S. was brutally long, but the prospect of seeing my family made it bearable. Thirty minutes before landing in Washington, D.C., however, the pilot came in over the intercom and announced that there were 60 mph headwinds on the ground and that the flight attendants had to take their seats immediately.

The strong gusts of wind rocked the plane. We began our descent, only to suddenly head back up into the air. We circled the airport. Once. Twice. I was certain that were were going to divert to Baltimore or Philadelphia. The pilot finally made up his mind to go for the landing. The plane rocked from side to side. One wing tilted up, then the other wing. We landed in the same way a leaf falls from a tree to the ground.

I have seen far too many History Channel programs and knew that a sudden, ill-timed gust of wind has the potential to make an airplane crash. And after making it safely out of Christchurch, I really didn't want to die.

I prayed. I think a lot of people on the airplane played. We landed safely.

Since my return home I have been glorying in the mundane: braiding my daughter's hair, scrubbing the toothpaste stains off of the sink, singing in church, spending time with my family.

While I know my memories of the past week will fade, I hope I can hold on to this new-found feeling of gratitude. I am just so happy to be home.