A Portly Savior

First of all, you have been faithfully following Michael's luggage saga with DELTA AIRLINES.  So, you deserve to know LUGGAGE HAS BEEN LOCATED.  It left Flint, MI and somehow found it's way to Amsterdam, France and Canada.  He doesn't know when he will be reunited with his red roller bag, but at least it has been found.

  "I wish my suitcase was the one who came to Salta, and I was the one who got to take the intercontinental tour." - Rev. Michael Lusk

Also, I had a photo shoot today, which means, another lazy blog day.  However, I will leave you with a momento of our earlier days in ministry.  Yes, believe it or not, we were VERY funny clowns with a pretty substantial following in South America.  We can juggle, make balloon animals, and snort whipped cream with the best of them.  Now you know.

This photo:

Rosa the clown (me),  tries to explain to Gordo about the Superhero with the mightiest powers.  Gordo pauses, thinks, and humorously interrupts with several incorrect guesses.  Can you figure out who Rosa was really talking about? You guys are just soooo smart.  Good guess.


Rest well tonight my bloggies.  I pray for you daily.

In love,

Christina

Don't get MAD. Get GLAD!

Oops, you did it again.  Yeah, I'm talking to you, DELTA AIRLINES.

So, my husband and I have come to accept our 50% lost luggage ratio when we travel with this particular  airline.  (Note: ALWAYS make room for an extra pair of skivvies in your carry-on. - Note Again: NEVER make room for an extra pair of tweezers in your carry-on.) However, Delta has never (before now) erroneously shipped our belongings to multiple nations on the wrong continent .  They have my full standing ovation for that one.  I am truly impressed.  Michael, I have the utmost respect for you, coordinating these nation-wide events.  It is even more impressive that you are poised to do it naked.  Imagine the publicity. (I for one will be tuning into the live feed;)
     Dear reader, please stay with me. I promise I am about to make a point. And because I love you,  I will include a story, in effort to recoup from last night's poorly executed weed smokin' post:)

Here goes, It is a long one, but I will try to shrink it down as much as possible.

We had been in Argentina for two months (seven years ago).  It had been a tremendous victory for us, but it had also been far more trying than we had imagined.  Before the move, I was feeling pretty good about using my Spanish for two months on this amazing adventure.  It was the one class in high school that I did pretty well in.   I pulled out all the guns on only the first day, and soon realized I hadn't as much ammo as I had imagined.  As it turns out, "Hello.  Where's the bathroom?" and "Do you like the salad?" will only get you so far. Also, I had almost died from Pneumonia.  ( We never shared that with any of you before because my mother is already feeling only so-so about this whole, daughter-in-a-foreign-country bit.) In addition to the aforementioned dilemas, I had, in a moment of frustration, torn apart my 500 page "How-To-Raise-A-Healthy-Baby" books.  "Where in God's name do you get alkaline-infused organic mango-cranberry juice in this country anyway!?" To say the very least, when it came time to visit home, we were ready.  We loaded up in a taxi and trusted Argentina's  Evil Caneval, to get us to the airport safely.  We were concerned about how our little Lucy would handle the five hour drive.  Fortunately for her, we made it in only three.

Part Two:  The Airport (full story will have to be it's own post)

Arriving two hours ahead of schedule, we had some time to kill.  Lucy and I did some shopping, while Michael sat on a bench doing the same thing he does after an hour with me in the mall (stayed with the bags and begged for water).  Paying six-times more than what we could have paid for the same thing hours ago completed (We had to get rid of those pesos somehow.),  the three of us proceeded toward our gate, excited to be headed back to the good ol' U. S. of A.

Part Three:  The gate (I know it's getting long...)

"Michael, our gate must've changed because that sign does not say Miami.  It says Paris."
Nope, our flight had been re-scheduled. We would be there another day.  It may not have been that big of an issue, 'cept we was broke with nowhere to go.  I was about to seriously blow up on somebody, anybody at that point. Thankfully, my husband got to me before anybody needed to bust out the pepper spray. "Let's be calm about this,  I think this is one of those pray and trust God kind of moments." (My criminal record is still grateful for those anointed words of wisdom.)  We did just that.  God did amazing miracles, and it worked out better than we could've imagined. (Different post guys.)

What I'm getting at is this;  there are going to be moments where you have the opportunity to be flaming mad, and nobody would blame you for it.  But if we hold our tongues, and give God an opportunity to show Himself instead, we will never be disappointed.  He will work it out even better than we could have planned.  Michael may never see his suits again, (he may), but he knows God's provision well enough to know it will all work out,  IF he allows the creator of the universe to get involved.  I am sure looking forward to the awesome story of how God takes care of the situation.  Don't worry, I'll let you know what happens.

The moral of the story seems pretty evident to me, but it is way past my bedtime and I have some doubts about my coherency.  I may have to revise after a nights sleep.  Let me know if you get it.

 I LOVE YOU ALL,

Christina