The things we carry

Yesterday Denis and I were on our way to Birmingham. He’s doing a weekend conference at Faith Presbyterian. I’m along to set up our…nevermind.

I got my favorite Swiss army knife confiscated by airport security. The TSA guy nodded, almost apologetic, (disarming me for the kill) telling me he’d need to look in my purse. First he pulled out my hand cream and said it was way over the ounce limit.

I did point out, “It’s not li-quid. It’s practically sol-id.” I could see that was stupid.

“Liquid, gels, aerosols, three ounces or less,” was all he said.

“So, just pitch it.”I should have made everyone wait until I applied all of it. But it was that oatmeal stuff with no fragrance, no additives, very boring.

I did have my favorite water bottle from a Bloomberg friend, which I pointed out with some hostility, was EMPTY. (I planned to fill it at a fountain.)

He then asked, like they ask criminals on the Cops program, was there anything else in my purse that he should be aware of and suddenly I recognized this very, very unfair question by which he would condemn me. So, I don’t know if he believed my “Oops, I think I forgot I have a knife.”

He raised one eyebrow, reached in my purse and from some secret inner compartment instantly pulled out my Swiss Army Knife, and said, “I thought I saw something."

I’ve owned this for years. It is green and not only has blades and scissors, it has a pick for your teeth. I was about to cry, and he softened a little. He offered to let me take it back to our car, but we were dropped off… then he suggested I could go back to the ticket counter and see if they would let me put it in my checked luggage, but I saw out the window behind him, and the luggage cart was already loaded and the attendant was there getting ready to grand slam our suitcases onto the conveyor belt. (Rochester airport is small.) He then offered I could leave it at the business office and pick it up when I came back, but I knew about that. You think that service is free? Unfortunately, I’d already redeemed it once this summer – in Minneapolis when I was escorting my granddaughter to her gate and remembered just in time and took it to their business office window, signed papers in triplicate, and when I came back a short while later to claim it, they charged me $15.00!

I just was so sad. I stood there until someone nudged me, and then I said to the TSA guy, “Why don’t you keep it? It’s a sweet knife. Feel how nice it sits in your palm?”
I think in his heart he was tempted, but I know my knife is now rusting in some dumpster along with my hand cream and dozens of plastic water bottles.

So this morning we prayed, together, Denis and I. Not about the knife. That’s so little, I know. No, we prayed to see if we could leave behind some of the things we carry, to see if we could be here in Birmingham, and to see if God could use us by his grace, and could we bring some gift of loving God and finding glory in all he’s made for us to be.