Praying For Ignorance

I’m writing to you as if you’ve read every one of my blogs when I say, “Remember when I said I’ve been blogging since the early 2000’s and I may bring a blog post back from the past?”

Well, this is another one of them. I’ll be telling you about my teenage son’s trip to Mexico over 20 years ago as if it’s happening right now. Just so you know, while I am doing much better, I still have a few stray phobias that show up occasionally.

Here you go, a blast from the past.

I don’t know if I’ve told you yet, but I have these pesky, little phobias. You probably wouldn’t know it to look at me because I can usually keep them at bay. I have learned not to run screaming from uncomfortable situations or have emotional breakdowns in public. So, these little annoyances don’t really interfere with my life, often. I have learned to manage them.

For example, I’m afraid of crowds, underground parking garages, cramped spaces, heavy traffic, and heights. So, if I rode with you on an elevator you probably wouldn’t know that I was breaking out in a sweat. And you probably wouldn’t really notice that I chose to take you on the “scenic route” to the store instead of the interstate. The views and conversation would be so lovely that you wouldn’t even notice that it takes 3 times as long. It wouldn’t bother you that I wouldn’t walk up the tiny, spiral staircase to the top of the lighthouse with you because I’d insist on staying outside to take a picture of you waving to me when you got to the top. Would you really notice that I always have to sit on the end seat at the theatre, or that every time you invite me to a concert with a million screaming people, I suddenly can’t afford it? I know it sounds like a lot to deal with, but I can manage and my pet phobias usually don’t bother anyone else. That is, until they bunch up on me.

Not long ago, my teenage son came to me and said he wanted to go on a missions trip to Mexico. What a great opportunity for him! So, I actively set out to help my baby plan a trip that would take him far away from me. What was I thinking? That was the first twinge of anxiety. I quickly threw the pesky bug from my mind. My baby would be fine. I trusted the adults heading up the trip and he would be going with his cousin. It would be a wonderful experience for both of them. The planning went great and the money was raised. My son was raring to go! Then the day came to take him to the airport.

The pesky anxiety bug had grown much larger but I kept it at bay with a chair and a whip which is made of distraction and self-talk like: It’s only natural for mothers to be a little anxious when their children leave them to fly high in the sky in a tin can, over the ocean, to another country where he can barely speak the language and he can’t drink the water, right? Did you hear that whip crack? I’m handling it.

At the Atlanta airport there were about a zillion people and the lines were about 20 miles long, I’m not exaggerating, that’s what I saw. We waited forever until he got his ticket. That was fine, really, it gave me more time to think about the whole crazy fiasco that I agreed to. The bug was growing! I’ve got a sword on that bug now!

We then had to go to the International concourse. Can you guess where that was? About 5 miles walking or a few minutes ride in the underground hamster tube system crammed in with the zillion people who just got their tickets. Is it just me or is that insane? Who came up the idea of putting human beings in plastic containers and hurling them at breakneck speed under the tarmac? I am not a C.H.U.D.* I am a human being! I had to pull out my mental revolver on that bug!

Yep, no, I was not getting in the hamster tube so after making my family walk 5 miles, we arrived sweating and wheezing at the bottom of an escalator that was about 10 stories tall. That was it, I closed my eyes and let that bug crawl on my back and I gave him a ride. I could barely drag myself to the gate while my son was bouncing and chatting with his friends. They were all looking out of the enormous plate glass window at the giant tin can that would carry them over the deep, blue sea to a land far, far away.

As I sat there catching my breath, it was all I could do to keep from grabbing my tall, lanky boy and run screaming from the airport. Everyone around me were acting as if this was normal, in fact they were all excited about it. I guess I was the only one who was in their right mind. I was just about ready to stand up and enlighten everyone about the insanity, dangers, horrors, and complete and utter homesickness that they were throwing themselves into when my son came over and thanked me for making the trip happen for him.

When I looked into those big, beautiful eyes and heard him talk with excitement about going and spending time with orphaned children, I just had to leave him in his ignorance. When he got finished talking about how he hoped God would use him to make a little kid happy, he almost had me convinced that his leaving was a good thing. When he hugged me and kissed me I felt that bug jump off my back.

During the week that followed, the bug came back for a few visits along with some mental slide shows and a litany of fears, but I asked God to give me the same ignorance that He had given that pack of kids flying in the tin can to Mexico.

Here’s an update some 20 years later…

The kids had a great time on that missions trip. I survived and survived several more. My son is now a pastor and is helping plan a missions trip to Belize.

*Oh, and the obscure C.H.U.D. reference is from an old 1984 horror movie and it is the acronym for “cannibalistic humanoid underground dweller.” Weird, I know.