Airports are places where opposites meet and constantly mix together. They are places of reunion and departure, business and leisure, busyness and boredom. Deep emotions—joy and anticipation, sorrow and grief—are expressed and shared. So many different kinds of people are brought together in one place (the man on a business trip, the soldier returning from active duty, the family heading for vacation), yet for the most part, each person is wrapped up in his or her own thoughts, completely unaware of the hundreds or thousands of others passing by.
Living and working overseas has given me the ability to do much travel. Because of this I have visited my fair share of airports. My favorite part of the airport is the arrival area. Whether it is me getting picked up or me doing the picking, this area fascinates and entertains me. For domestic flights, the arrival area is right at the Security Check Point–an interesting collision of joyous reunions with sorrowful goodbyes. For international flights, it happens in an area following immigration, baggage claim, and customs.
Sliding, frosted glass doors separate passengers from those picking them up. An open space of about 20 meters is cordoned off to hold the crowds at bay. Those lined up include indifferent men and women holding up signs with peoples’ names on them, taxi drivers eager to secure a fare, and family members or friends straining to see their loved ones. The latter is my favorite group by far. I find it great fun to watch these people jockey for the best position at the front of the crowd, just behind the barrier. Some even duck under the retractable band to gain a few more inches. As the sliding doors begin to open and close, revealing exhausted passengers and their luggage, the atmosphere begins to spark with excitement and anticipation.
Each time the doors begin to move, sounds of several groups of people collectively sucking in their breath fill the air, each person wondering, hoping, pleading that this, this might be the one they are waiting for. Then, after the person or group is revealed, the tension dissipates in one mighty release of air as the greeters sigh deeply and try to reign in their disappointment.
Once that prized person is spotted, however, there is no stopping them. Through the barriers they fly with shouts of greeting, cries of exclamation. The open area sets a perfect stage where which we all witness these tender or triumphant reunions: hugs, kisses, tears, smiles, laughter. Not all the reunions are exuberant. Some are quiet or shy, somehow more touching with the amount of emotion communicated in a soft word or gesture.
For me, after spending some months abroad, the arrival gate is what I long for the most. I know my family will be there to greet me, to shower me with hugs and kisses and cries of delight. My nephews and niece will swamp me and almost knock me down in their enthusiasm. My parents and grandparents will try to hold back their tears. We’ll be together again and my heart will be full to overflowing.
On the other hand, the departure area is the place I dislike the most. It is business-like and efficient. Airport personnel check tickets and IDs, lines zig-zag up to security screening devices, passengers place their luggage on the x-ray belt and walk through metal detectors, carry-on items are collected and passengers head to their departure gates. The detached environment represses the deep emotions experienced by those trying to catch their planes. For some, it is just another day, another business trip, for others, a spark of anticipation for an exotic destination. For still others, it is a tearing away from loved ones, a place of deep sorrow and goodbye.
It is here where I set off on another adventure, but it is also where I leave so many precious people behind. Usually a feeling of dread starts building itself in the pit of my stomach a few days before I must leave. On the drive to the airport, this rock solidifies itself so much that I can’t eat and can hardly make conversation. My self-control is stretched to the max as I try to quell the emotions that threaten to overwhelm me. After checking in and receiving my boarding pass, my family and I inevitably head to the waiting area and try to make the most of our last minutes together.
This time is a kind of slow torture—the kids playing on the play structure and we adults struggling to maintain a normal atmosphere, trying not to think about how this minute or the next will be our last together for a very long time. What I hate the most is having to go alone. In my perfect world, somehow these two places that I call home (Oregon and Uganda) would meld together. My family could somehow come with me and we could all be together. I could daily be apart of my niece and nephews’ lives, watching them change and grow as each moment passes.
“Why must I constantly be split in two?” I ask myself.
Following Jesus is not all fun and games. It requires sacrifice and trust. Many years ago when I was faced with the decision of whether to go teach in Korea or not, I felt that God had His hand extended out to me, asking, “Will you go on an adventure with Me? Will you trust Me? I promise your life will never be the same, and oh, the things you will experience!” I said yes then (a very hesitant and uncertain yes, I have to admit), and my life has definitely gone in a direction I never expected it to.
Since 2001, I have had the opportunity to see the world (South Korea, Thailand, the Philippines, Great Britain, Uganda, Kenya, Rwanda). I’ve been to many different countries and experienced many different cultures. I’ve realized how much greater God is than I can ever hope to imagine or comprehend. The variety of peoples, cultures, traditions, animals, and plants that He has created is amazing and overwhelming. Each one reflects part of who God is and what He loves. Ten lifetimes would not be enough to learn all there is to know about God just from His creation.
In Mark 10:29-30, Jesus said, “Truly I say to you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or farms, for My sake and for the gospel’s sake,
but that he shall receive a hundred times as much now in the present age, houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and farms, along with persecutions; and in the age to come, eternal life.” 
My “family” has increased by leaps and bounds since leaving the U.S. God has blessed me richly with deep friendships—brothers and sisters, mothers, and children—and I would not trade them for anything in the world. I’ve seen God work in amazing ways: meeting needs, changing lives, and drawing people to salvation. My own relationship with God has been strengthened and expanded beyond my expectations.And so, though my heart may break every time I stand on the other side of Security, stretching on my tip toes to gain one final glimpse of the people I care most for in the world, I know that it is worth it, and I’m so glad I said Yes.
