Airport Musings

A conical shaped-Christmas tree of lights towers over the concourse in Heathrow's Terminal 5, sparkling as if with diamonds or crystals. Behind it is the sign for Tiffany's, where locked cases display expensive jewellery. Every shop bears the name of another designer label, either clothing or jewellery, perfumes or alcohol, purses or luggage or shoes. 

Occasionally I see a fellow traveller who breaks the worn jeans and slouchy trainers mould. Someone well dressed and smart. Most travellers, however, look more like backpackers than affluent travellers doing their Christmas shopping in these high-end shops.

There are one or two men seated at the caviar and champagne bar. I wonder who has the appetite for delicacies while travelling? I can hardly manage to drink a flat white - in fact I dropped and spilled one right across the floor but the kind man at pret a manger replaced it, reassuring me that it was all right. Probably I look pretty tired and ancient. 

After an overnight flight from Los Angeles, sleepless of course in the cattle car, and a sleepless night previously, anticipating the gruelling goodbyes which have so characterised my whole adult life, I am hovering on the brink of functioning consciousness but must stay awake until they post the gate for the flight to Aberdeen. I have had a long 3 hour wait for this connecting flight, which will drop me in Aberdeen just in time for rush hour.

A man nibbles his nails anxiously across from me. A baby screams. A city that never sleeps - this place is heaving with humanity.

And to think that God knows the thoughts of every single one. From the young Mormon missionary behind me to the Muslim woman in her burka. "Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, o Lord."

 

It's a comforting thought that in the vast anonymity of this place, the Lord hasn't lost sight of me.

May I be a blessing to someone here in the next hour, Lord, tired as I am.