The Long Fart to Rome

Friday I take my daughter and fly to Rome. We'll meet my husband there. For a (past?) worrywart I don't have much problem with flying. A lot of people do, they don't understand how we stay up in the air. I don't either but I imagine it's like the plane has this huge fart which propels it city to city. The problems come when the plane runs out of fart power and then falls, or if bad weather hits the plane and knocks the farts out of it, THEN it falls. So I'm praying for proper fart juice to get us across the Atlantic and safely into the early Christian city-- Rome! The I'll follow Jesus all across the city, generally searching for Holy Mischief.

No, I am honestly a little apprehensive about the day long layover in Montreal. I don't like feeling forced to hang out somewhere for long periods of time. In the past I have felt trapped and sometimes this has spurred an all out panic episode where I feel so bad I want to pull a Bob (from "What About Bob") where he is in such panic he goes up to a stranger and pleads, "Just punch me in the face." My friend E doesn't understand and tried to challenge me on what escalates an attack and I agreed it doesn't make sense. Most phobias don't. I think I am basically afraid of losing control and being hauled, out of control, to a place where I am even more out of control. But God is one step beyond that isn't He? And I am less dreading Friday and am now more curious about what He'll do. Huh.