There is a shrub found in the hedgerows of Britain which goes by various names, one of which is Traveller’s Joy. In the autumn it adorns the bushes with thick curly grey fluffy flowers. I don’t know how or why it acquired its name of traveller’s joy.
Travelling has its joys, but often they are obscure: not really pretty, fluffy grey, but sometimes they hold an unexpected delight.
So: we are in California in a church in south Los Angeles. We have had some great times and meetings, Terry preaching powerfully. Two meetings on Sunday morning, and we know we have to leave promptly after the second to drive to the airport for the next leg of our trip. The preacher gets a bit carried away and so we leave 15 mins late. Travellers occupational hazard.
A handsome young man who is the living spit of Denzil Washington drives us as fast as the heavy traffic will allow. On the freeway he has to brake sharply and the car behind hits us. As soon as possible, Denzil pulls over and assesses the damage. Miraculously, apart from a minor scratch, there is none. Traveller’s relief! We proceed to LAX.
Our tickets indicate we are to fly with Alaskan Airline. Denzil locates it in terminal 6 and we say goodbye. We stand in line to check in….only to be told that we are in the wrong terminal. OK. We trundle our heavy suitcases out on to the sidewalk and walk a considerable distance to terminal 4. Traveller’s irritation.
The nice lady at the desk informs us that oh dear! It is now too late to get on that flight, but she will check our bags and puts us on stand by for the next one.
This is slightly worrying as Terry is scheduled to preach at an evening meeting in a town called Visalia. We get on a shuttle to go to the gate, which strangely, is located back in terminal 6 where we originally went. The next flight is full, and there is no guarantee that the 7.30 pm flight will have gaps. Sigh. Traveller’s frustration.
What to do? Have a sandwich. While we are eating it, Terry gets a call from John Lanferman on the phone who is also visiting Visalia for the church conference. He has an idea. If we can get to Burbank airport, we can get a ride in a small private plane! Wow! Traveller’s hope!
The taxi costs over $100 and it takes an hour for the Latvian taxi driver to locate the place in Burbank, but eventually we find it and are met by a cheerful young pilot and a pastor. Eagerly we look for our private plane and are pointed in the direction of a dear little toy plane about the size of a fruit basket on wheels. Surely not. Yikes. Traveller’s terror.
We crawl in. The door is shut, and we taxi down the runway and take off travelling North. Far over to the west the Pacific shimmers in the evening sun. We float along high above forests, lakes, mountain ranges and desert. It is wonderful! Travellers totally unexpected delight!
An hour later we land smoothly at Visalia just as the sun drops behind the horizon the rays flaming over the evening clouds. We unfold ourselves and climb out, to be greeted by our dear friends John and Linda. We hurry to the waiting church. We have never met them before, but their loving welcome and the peace of God’s presence in the beautiful worship envelops us .