In transit

I've been thinking about being in transit.  Yesterday I found out that a good friend Jack passed away and today that the father of one my my long time friends growing up passed away -- the second time a father of a friend growing up has passed as well as two of my former coaches and another good friend my age.  It is a reminder of how fleeting this life is and how quickly things can change; a reminder to cherish the moments that you have with those you love because it can be gone in an instant.  I've been really interested in this documentary project this guy, Yogi Roth, is doing about walking the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage with his dad who has prostrate cancer.  He told himself that he never wanted to have regrets about not asking his dad something.  He set out on this walk and is now looking to bring that experience to others as well in this documentary (http://www.lifeinawalk.com/).  It is something I grapple with as I think about my relationship with my own dad.

After a red-eye to D.C., I had a four hour layover.  I was walking about the terminal to get some exercise and some blood flowing.  I stumbled upon the terminal chapel and went inside for a bit.  A terminal chapel is something to behold as there are artifacts there from several faiths.  This one had a cross and Bible front and center and an area on the side with rugs for those of Islamic faith as well as lots of literature that you could take with you depending on your faith or curiosity.  A weary traveler was sleeping on the chairs to gain rest and an airline employee walked in, knelt down, and made a Catholic cross in prayer.  There was also a guest book where those in transit could record their gratitude.

It got me to thinking about the life of truckers.  I've heard stories of the cramped gas station chapels and I've seen the Gideon's Bible in the crusty roach motels.  There is this whole underbelly out there of people in transit whether it is a trucker, someone in shipping, or in the airline industry.  It is far from a glamorous lifestyle and is often left to those who might be considered rough around the edges.  And yet, scattered through these places are little chapels and Bibles and other things to meet those who are wandering and perhaps searching.  I think of what stories must come out of a little roadside chapel in Las Vegas or at an ubiquitous Route 66 diner -- of how God is meeting people in the depths and in the margins.