Settling into my seat in 12D, I looked across the aisle and noticed a well-dressed woman my age, listening to her iPod.
My stomach turned like I’d just plummeted a rollercoaster drop. And suddenly I knew.
I’d lost my iPod 4 GB Nano.
My last recollection of it was on the flight into Omaha, 5 days prior, when I came on vacation to see my boyfriend, Scott.
I had a coat draped over my lap. Overtop that was a pillow. And, somewhere in the mix had been my iPod; I’d been listening to an inspiring sermon from NewSpring Church before we were told to turn off all electronics.
A vision of my tiny green friend falling silently and helplessly to the floor flew to my mind. Ugh.
That little iPod was more than just an electronic toy—it’s a key component to each free Jazzercise class I teach for our missionary women at headquarters. And my heart hurt, too, remembering how my girlfriends pooled their money and bought it for my last birthday.
I felt so irresponsible. My brain automatically spun with Plan B options. I’d already tried to call the airlines to document the loss. Scott had even driven to the airport in Omaha to talk with Northwest Airlines in person and came back with empty hands.
What would I do? I thought, I teach again in a few days. I’ve got to bite the bullet and just go buy another one. I don’t know how I’ll pay for it, I guess I’ll dig into savings. What else can I do?
Then, I felt God nudge my heart: Angie, rest. Don’t be so quick to self-provide. Wait. Let Me be your hero in this.
Sigh. Will this be my life-long lesson? To fight against the constant temptation to make life work for myself? I think it just might. But then, it sure keeps me humble and coming up against the truth that Jesus has a better plan than my Plan Bs. (Although they keep me hanging until the 11th hour, more often than not.)
I may not be seeing growth in how I still default to making my own plans, but I’m grateful to say that I have a quicker turn-around time than in the past as I turn and choose to intentionally rest. And I learn to talk to God and others about my needs, my shortcomings.
Taking a nervous breath, I vulnerably confessed the debacle to my friend, Sadee, Thursday when I got back to the office. I told her about the loss and how I was fighting to rest.
“I have an iPod that I just use to listen to talks,” Sadee said. “You can borrow it to teach class until you figure out what to do next.”
Wow. A sweet, small gesture that had “Jesus is Your Hero” written all over it.