Airport Arrivals

I had to pick up a friend from the airport one day.
I grumbled, of course, since I had plenty of things I had to take care of and giving up my time, gas, and mileage were never high on my altruistic list that I devote to friends. Nevertheless, my sacrifices are never short of spiritual lessons from which I have always been the most willing of beneficiaries.
Have you ever had to wait for a friend or a relative at the baggage claim? I endured close to two hours of it as I waited for my friend’s delayed flight. So to pass the time, I tried painting a picture of the events happening in front of me.
Over to my left, a well-dressed elderly gentleman took the escalator down to stand next to the stationary baggage distribution system. I imagined him holding a paintbrush dipped in the color green, no doubt he’s rich and looking around for his driver.
To my right, two women (probably sisters) greeted each other with screaming laughter as both are incredulous that they are actually standing on the same patch of concrete. I smiled as I pictured them sword-fighting with red paintbrushes.
I saw various mixtures of people, families and friends, greeting each other with smiles and hugs, laughter and tears, with emotions running at full throttle. I imagined hundreds of wet paintbrushes dipped in rainbows of colors flying left and right. I had to stop and wonder if I had taken anything that day that could affect my mental condition.

There was, however, a scene happening in front of me that really grabbed at me with an undeniable resistance. It tugged my heart so strongly that I was unable to put a color to it. Two small children ran to a distinguished-looking gentleman, but there was a sadness in him that didn’t go away despite two beautiful children running to him, yelling “Uncle Matt, Uncle Matt!!” He scooped up the small children in his arms with their mom and dad not too far behind. The children's mom was also very happy to see “Uncle Matt”, but the dad was several steps behind her, seemingly reluctant to etch himself into the picture.
As Uncle Matt placed his nieces down, he directed his sight to the children’s dad. The two gentlemen stood silently for an eternity and I could only imagine what conflicts they’d had to battle through to reach this moment…
Then, as I felt tightness in my heart and wetness in my eyes, I saw tears on both the gentlemen’s eyes once they approached each other, hugging and sobbing with restless abandon. The children and their mom joined the two each member of the family hugged each other in silence. Finally, I was able to picture paintbrushes dancing around them, dipped in thousands of colors while dancing to a melodic aria.

I will never know the true story behind the scene I experienced that day, but for sure, I’ve come to accept that the things I’ve had to endure in this lifetime happened for a reason. I can’t control the things that happen in my life and when it comes to forgiveness, I can’t afford to just talk the talk. I can’t afford to harbor what’s happened to me in the past.
Without forgiveness, the pictures we paint are devoid of any color.
I say grab as many paintbrushes as you can and paint with every color imaginable.

Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Luke 6:37