When my daughter was young, I went on a 5-week trip to Guatemala, which I wrote about in The Guatemala Formula.
Isla went to stay with her dad while I was away. It was very difficult for both of us to be separated for so long.
On my way home, I made it as far as London before getting delayed by thick fog. At first, I wasn’t too worried about this delay because I had a long layover in Glasgow before catching my final flight home to Shetland.
Yet, as time passed I started to worry about missing my connecting flight home. After being away for so long I was desperate to see Isla and knew she’d be upset if I missed my flight.
So I started to pray – hard. “I call on God and all the angels to get me home today! Please get me home to Isla today. Get me home today!” On and on I went for about an hour until the fog cleared in London and I boarded my flight to Glasgow.
However, even though the flight had boarded, there was a backlog of other flights waiting to depart, so we sat on the runway for another hour, waiting for our turn to take off. Now I only had about 15 minutes to catch my final flight home once we landed in Glasgow.
I kept praying.
“Get me home today, get me home today, get me home today.”
Over and over again I pleaded.
When we finally landed in Glasgow, whilst taxing to the gate, the crew made an announcement that I personally was to be allowed off the plane first and that everyone else should stay seated. This was so I could have time to run across the airport to catch my final flight. I hadn’t requested this special treatment, so I took it as a sign my prayers had worked.
Once I was off the plane, I ran. I ran faster than I had ever run before. Yet there was a security check-point between me and my flight – which thankfully wasn’t busy.
I kept running.
I finally made it to my gate and watched in horror as I saw the plane push back from the gate. I had missed it by minutes. I burst into tears, to the discomfort of the nearby airline employee. I could hardly breathe because I had been running so hard and I heaved huge sobs while trying to catch my breath.
I was distraught. There were no more flights to Shetland that day, which meant my prayer had not been answered.
My luggage hadn’t made it on to the flight home, so I went to collect it and made my way to the information desk to find out what to do next.
The lady behind the desk could see I was upset. She was very kind to me and booked me into a room at one of the airport hotels for the night while transferring my booking to the next day.
I took my bag and wheeled it out of the airport and across the road to the hotel I’d be staying in.
I managed to calm myself before calling home and telling my ex-husband that I’d missed my flight. Then I spoke to Isla. She was crying, just as I feared, and my heart was breaking. I felt so guilty for being away for so long and the extra day apart felt like an eternity for us both.
After calling home, I called the car hire place at Sumburgh Airport in Shetland to cancel the car I had booked to get me into town. When I got through to the attendant and told her what had happened she said, “Oh, haven’t you heard? The Glasgow flight has had to turn back for some reason. You may still be able to get on it.”
New hope filled me. I ran out of my hotel room, leaving my suitcase behind me. It would only slow me down, and there was nothing in it that was more important to me than getting home. I ran back to the information desk and found the kind employee who had helped me earlier. “It turned around! The flight came back. Can I get on it?” I practically screamed at her.
She shifted her eyes, no longer making eye contact. In a quiet voice, she told me what she had done. “Your flight did come back; technical fault I believe. They landed and the pilot asked if you were ready to board. I said you needed your rest after traveling so far. It turned out there was nothing wrong with the plane and they took off again.”
I stared at her in disbelief. I could have punched her in the face I was so upset and angry. Tears welled up in my eyes and I could see she was incredibly uncomfortable and didn’t know what to say.
I turned around and left.
As I walked back to my hotel I thought about what had happened that day. I prayed to get home. The flight seemingly left without me. It turned around after a false technical alert and the pilot asked if I wanted to board before taking off again.
On that day, I discovered the meaning of faith. If I had had faith I would have known my prayer would be answered, even though it didn’t look like it. If I had had faith, I would have never left that airport, knowing that the solution was yet to appear. The flight, my flight, would turn around and come back to get me. I could have kicked myself.
It made me wonder about other times I thought my prayers hadn’t been answered. Had I done the same thing at different times without knowing? Had I walked away before seeing the miracle I had asked for?
Now, when it seems like my prayers aren’t answered, I ask myself: Louise, have you left the airport?
Louise x
