Hi, my name is Rachel Fisher, and I am a pusher…of limits. Sometimes, it’s a lovely trait, in that I get a lot done. But in other, more toxic times, it means I go too far. Travel is a great example of this delicate balance. I sit here, typing this post, in New Jersey, anxiously awaiting my connecting flight from Portugal on home to Houston. I had a lovely trip, and instead of leisurely bouncing to the United lounge and patiently awaiting my connecting flight four hours later, I chose to take a risk. Placing myself on standby for an earlier flight, I raced to the gate wherein I was not guaranteed a seat, my luggage* ambiguously assigned to either route, depending on how it was scanned…
Stressing over the status of my suitcase, I finally sprinted to the standby plane. There, I found a crowd of frustrated customers, many of whom actually had seats but were bumped due to a previous cancellation. Realizing I was never going to be on that plane, I tapped into my favorite coping mechanism, self-loathing. Not only had I spent so much time stressing and sprinting from one end of the airport to the other, I wasted precious time I could’ve spent relishing my last bit of vacation. In a moment of utter defeat, I called my mom, tears of hot rage streaming down my face. “Why am I like this?” I asked her aloud, frustrated with my inability to take the easy road and just RELAX. “You live and you learn,” my mother kindly reassured me. Texting my dad to inquire about the possibilities of my misplaced luggage, he logically reasoned, “What’s the worst case scenario?” Still upset by my actions, I replied, “I’m just so mad at myself.”
The reality is, this is small beans compared to actual problems most people face. But it serves as a stark reminder of one of my greatest vices: greed. Not Scrooge McDuck style greed, but the kind of greed that makes me think I can bite off more than I can chew: a false sense of control. If I just work hard enough or strategize well enough or charm enough people, I can make things nice and planned and predictably the way I want them to be. But real life doesn’t work that way, not in relationships or jobs, certainly not in an airport. How, then, does a limit-pusher like me resolve to slow down? For starters, I need to learn how to stop bullying myself about the choices I make. Mistakes happen, that’s a fact, but these are the moments in which we grow. Better yet, the times we feel most powerless can serve as reminders of how deceitful our false senses of control really are. For in these instances we can turn ourselves toward the source of peace and forgiveness and yes, power, that will never forsake us. I have never liked the phrase, “We make plans and God laughs,” because I don’t for one second believe God revels in our misfortunes. However, the idea that we have it all figured out and need not lean on a relationship with the creator of the universe is how our hubris gets the best of us. My flight connection debacle is a silly example, but I choose to thank God for the reminder that I am not in control and that is a-ok. The worst that can happen will never be beyond redemption because the one in control wants good things for you and me and every other person in Newark airport and beyond so so much. There is no limit to that love.
Author’s note: I was reunited with my bag, so the story does have a happy ending!
*I must state that I NEVER check a bag…but I was bringing home wine!
Rachel Fisher 