Seven Hours

"What should we do? Where should we go?"

How long has it been since I've had the freedom to ask myself, or better yet, one of my girlfriends those questions? It's 6 a.m. The terminal at O'Hare is slowly coming to life. The gates are lifting at the newsstand, the coffee shop, the duty free, the popcorn store.

"What do you want to do?" Susan asked.

"What do you mean? What does that even mean?" I thought to myself.

We have seven hours until our flight to Tokyo departs. Seven hours. Seven hours all to ourselves. I used to hate layovers. Not today. This is a seven-hour gift from God.

I realize in the quiet of this waiting (it is quiet in the Red Carpet Club!), how very loud and full my life is. Right now, there's no where I have to be, no one I have to take care of, no one asking me for this or that. Without those cares and concerns, there's so much room. Room to be aware, room to be present, room to see what God is doing and saying.

This is special. Seven hours, and then 10 days, of extra room. It's like God is emptying us so He can use us exactly how He wants to in Thailand. No distractions. No concerns. No dependents! Just, "What should we do? Where should we go? What do you want us to do?"