Here's a true story that happened to me. I wrote a reflective entry in my journal after this event. Later on, I did some quick editing and voila-- for your enjoyment and my confidence builder!
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MY RETURN TRIP
July, 2006

I had just spent several glorious days with my eight-month-old grandson RJ in Michigan. The morning I left for Colorado I helped my daughter organize the frig so that she could have some meals planned for the coming week. I was feeling quite satisfied that I had contributed to the well being of my loved ones.

At the airport, my son-in-law walked me to the ticket counter where I checked my two pieces of luggage. Then, we looked at the arrival and departure information. All was well; my flight was on time. We hugged, said our goodbyes, and I walked to the gate where I waited until the plane was ready for departure.

I should have suspected something was wrong when I noticed several people dialing frantically on their cell phones. I saw one woman punch in the numbers, wait for a few rings, say a few unkind words, and dial another number. She went through this scenario several times before she shrugged her shoulders and sat looking into space.

Another woman took her cell phone into the corner by the windows. She also had a frantic look on her face.

I don't travel much alone so I was slow to figure out that these people knew something that I didn't. Finally, I went over to the information desk and found a disgruntled couple trying to solve their dilemma. I also noticed that the departure time had changed by approximately thirty minutes.

I started to do the math. My connecting flight was leaving thirty-five minutes after I arrived in Minneapolis. After subtracting thirty minutes, I had only five minutes to get to the gate. I knew that was not going to happen so I went to the information desk and asked an employee if I could find another flight leaving later. He said that the airline knew about the delay and that I would be able to make the connection.

Now I knew the reason for the frantic cell phone calls. Some people were going to Los Angeles from Minneapolis. Before the delay, they had only fifteen minutes to get to the next gate.

I went back to my seat and spent the time reading a book. We took off as expected thirty minutes late. The pilot made good time. We arrived in Minneapolis only five minutes later than the originally scheduled time.

My watch read two o'clock. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that I would have a half hour to get to the gate. I entered the aisle to wait for the door to open. Several passengers needed to get to connector flights in a short time so we all waited patiently. I looked again at my watch that read 2:05, then 2:10. Finally, the flight attendant announced that the worker in charge of opening the door could not be located. The people that needed to reach the connecting flight to Los Angeles knew that they would have to make different arrangements.

Finally, at 2:15 the flight attendant announced that the door would open shortly. I knew that a miracle would have to occur for me to make my connection at 2:35.

Earlier, while I was seated on the plane, I had found a map of the airport gate locations. After leaving the plane, I started to run as soon as I could. First, I made a wrong turn--so much for my map reading skills-- then, I headed down from gate F8 to F1. At the end of that area, I made a left turn and literally flew past shops and people. I didn't stop to think what people were wondering when they saw a grandmother running past them in her jogging pants and tennis shoes. I finally found the D gate sections and turned left to D4. One clock read 2:30, another 2:26. I was hoping that the latter gave the correct time.

When I arrived at the information desk, I could hardly speak. I asked if the plane to Denver had left. I could see no one waiting or sitting in the area. After scanning my ticket, the attendant motioned me down the ramp. Still running, I made it to the plane entrance before it closed. I might have had five minutes to spare. The attendant smiled and was happy that I had made it.

How can I express the feelings that came over me after I found my seat. I felt as though I had accomplished a great feat. I had literally run for over ten minutes at a surreal pace. I never doubted that I wouldn't make it to my destination. At times, I felt as though someone else were running in my shoes.

I will not forget this experience for a long time, if ever. It was a moment of serendipity, a time when something unexpected happens. Webster defines it as "a time when we find something that we have not been seeking." An apropos description of my return trip.

While I was journaling this situation, I did not intend to make it public. After rereading this entry, I still remember the situation vividly and with great awe.