Jonah In Miami

I wasn't running away from God because I didn't want to preach against great wickedness.
I was, in fact, headed to a strange land that would lead to what one could call a crazy "fish story".
A "fish story" being a tale that continues to grow with greater and unbelievable details each time it is told.

My tale started in Atlanta.
I told myself that I would put the past behind me, not thinking about my trip in April that landed me in the Bahamas, sitting on the tarmac for five hours with no food or beverage service. I wasn't going to dwell on the fact that my plane was struck by lightning putting me in the middle of a plane full of screaming, swearing, praying, truly ticked-off people or the fact that I was stranded in Miami spending the night with friends, arriving in PAP the following day.

I really should have noticed a faint fish smell in the air as I made my way just East of nowhere in the newly remodeled Miami airport to hook up with a friend to collect tuition money for kids and a large zip-lock bag of cell phones to be given to the kids as well.

Truth be told, I didn't really get that over powering fish smell until much later.

I was also meeting up with a friend from high school who would travel to Haiti with me.
Once on deck, so to speak, we sat on the tarmac talking, catching up on life, exchanging books, filling in the blanks about what happened to our old high school friends never moving off the tarmac, unaware of the storm brewing around us.
The crew didn't start throwing cargo off the plane or ask us to pray to our gods, they just kept repeating they would try to fix the mechanical problem.
American Airlines flight 575 was beginning to look, smell and sound a whole lot like the ship Jonah boarded headed for Tarshish.
After two and half hours of trying to fix the mechanical problems and some FAA guidelines now kicking in we got tossed.
We debarked the ship sitting for yet another hour, while the murmuring, complaining, texting and phoning began only to hear the dreaded words...flight cancelled.

We had now been tossed into the sea of mass chaos, mad dashes, swearing and the surrealness of a happy faced first time missions team. Bags in hand, all in matching t-shirts calmly declaring God had a plan and it was just part of the adventure.
I however, did not have on a happy face or the matching t-shirt and was not part of that crowd.
My t-shirt said, been there, done that.
I began to wonder about the ten pounds of frozen cheese now thawing in my carry-on, sweating all over my clothing.

I am pretty sure the voice over the loud speaker said, "welcome to Nineveh, the land you so desperately tried to avoid".
It was decided that said friend would leave me in Nineveh, not to make the rest of the journey with me due to the failures of traveling to Haiti on a "bubby-pass", always risky.
There were no casting of lots to find out who was responsible for this calamity, only food and hotel vouchers given to those of us who stood in the cattle line at the American Airlines counter in Concourse "D".

I would be spending the night in Miami, alone, eating a $16.00 cheeseburger.
I was happy I didn't have to collect my one hundred pounds of cargo.
I made a few phone calls, some to vent, others to a hand full of travel buddies who would find great humor in this journey.
Two calls to see if I had really lost my mind, now doubting that I should be making this journey.
I found the ice machine, unpacked my thawed and sweating cheese, poured ice over it in the sink to keep it cold for the night and went to bed.
It says, Jonah was in a deep sleep during the storm, this is where he and I differ.
I am not a fan of getting up at 4:00 a.m. two days in a row and don't sleep well when I have to fly.

The seas seemed rougher in the land I had desperately tried to avoid.
I wanted to be in a place that didn't always move so much, a place I could control.
I was praying a pray that sounded much like the one Jonah prayed.
He said: "In my distress I called to the Lord and he answered me.
From the depths of the grave, I called for help.
I needed help, I knew it and I was asking.
Part of the asking and attitude adjustment would hopefully come after I used my five dollar breakfast voucher for a triple shot, two pump vanilla latte at Starbucks.

By the time I made it to the gate, it smelled like an open air fish market all around me.
I didn't want to admit it was just the rotten smell of my attitude.
Not even strong coffee could fix that.
I should try to read.
Then I noticed the happy faced matching t-shirt people talking happily.
I still wasn't wearing the t-shirt and wondered if I had forgotten deodorant.
Maybe I should check.
It was once again, time to board.
It got worse when the gate attendant took my personal carry-on with the now sort of cold ten pounds of cheese, the zip-lock bag of cell phones, the new lap top away from me.
My protests went unheard.

I found my seat.
Thankfully, it was not next to a happy t-shirt person.
I was sitting next to my kind of traveler, quite and reading.
I sent a few text messages to say it looked like I would be leaving soon.
After thirty minutes the door should have closed, but it didn't.
No messages played about breathing devices falling from heaven to save us.
We had, you guessed it, mechanical problems.
All signs were now clear, I was Jonah.
I was sure of it.
Maybe if they tossed me off the storm would become calm.
I texted friends who I told I was leaving to say, I was not leaving.
I was trying to make lemonade.
I looked at the quite, book reader next to me and said, "can you say, Jonah?"
He didn't get it.

I wondered why after ten years of doing this I didn't find the humor in the darkness of traveling in a whale to a strange land.
How it was that the words, "we have to manually close the electronic door and fill out paper work" felt as repulsive to me as God telling Jonah to go confront wickedness.
I am not a big throw a fleece before the Lord kind of person.
But, I had determined if they couldn't close the cargo door, I was done.
I was torn, half of me wanted off, the other half wanted to get on with things.
I had things to do and people to see.
A miracle happened and we left for Haiti an hour and a half late.

Jonah's journey was three days and three nights, mine only two.
We landed in Haiti and as I walked off the jet way I could hear men singing to greet us.
I would fight the crowd to see if my hundred plus pounds of cargo actually caught up with me.
To my surprise, they didn't end up tossed over board in the Bahama's because of the defective cargo door issue.

Bags on cart, happy to be the ground, I searched for a familiar face to pick me up.
After all the confusion I wasn't to surprised I didn't see my ride.
I made a few phone calls on a borrowed phone since my phone was saying "invalid Sim card".
I did try the taxi route, but refused to pay twenty-five dollars for a three mile ride.
I argued about the cost of fuel and time it would take, finally telling them to take my bags out and forget the whole thing.
I would wait.
All the happy t-shirt people had loaded their bags into several vans.
I was now the only white face in a sea of black faces surrounded by cargo guys wanting to know if I liked the sun and why did I keep standing in the sun looking for a ride?
Finally, another white face and a ride.

This, however, is not the end of my fish tale.
I learned a long time ago never to say, "what else can go wrong"?
Especially when it comes to Haiti.

Ringing wet from my new love of the sun, happy to be in the comfort of friends, I had to get the ten pounds of cheese of out my suitcase.
I opened up my carry on to find that I had been robbed.
Half of the cell phones had been taken out of the large zip-lock bag along with the envelopes of money.
My heart sank, $1200 was gone.
Never mind Jonah confronting wickedness, I wanted to swear.
Instead, I put my face in my still cool suitcase, trying not to cry and throw up all at the same time.
Didn't they understand, they didn't steal from me, they stole from their own people.
My mind started to race, how could this happen, I was never away from my bags.
I replayed the trip in my head over and over again.
I would have to send an email and try to explain what happened.
You know the part when Jonah says, he would rather die, me too.

The next morning was like salt on a wound.
As Marjorie unpacked the supplies and fabric, she found the empty money envelopes in a completely different suitcase.
Even though I had placed two fifty pound bags on top of "the" suitcase, they still found the money and cell phones under the ten pounds of sweating cheese.
They even picked the phones they wanted leaving me the ones that they didn't want.
My conclusion, it had to have happened while I used a cell phone.

It was good it stormed that night, reminding me of those in the tent cities and choices made for survival.
My heart softened for this country that made me want to swear.
There would be no word from the Lord allowing me to go to the airport, proclaiming a great message leading to repentance, sackcloth, ashes.
It was done and over.

OK, so I don't know what the inside of a whale technically looks like.
I do know what it is like to stink.
I don't really like the end of my story.
I do however like the way Jonah's story ends.
So, I will end with his and not mine.

Jonah 4:11 - The Lord said,"But Nineveh has more than a hundred and twenty thousand people who cannot tell their right hand from their left, and many cattle as well, Should I not be concerned about that great city?"