There are many looks in an airport. Many. The look you get when you sit down on the weight machine at the counter and hold your legs up just to see how accurate it is. The look you get when you break the hook of your sandals and have to carry them in your hand through the airport as you walk barefoot. The look you get when you are sitting outside by the curb on your luggage with your mac in your lap at "Vehicle Shuttle Number A-44" because you just can't wait until you get to the hotel to write down what's in your heart. Yeah - like now.
But THIS look. This look is the Ultimate. You know the one I'm talking about. You get off of the plane, walk past the restaurants, down the escalator, and through the doors of security....and there they stand. The Waiting. The ones who are holding Love in their hands: Flowers, Signs, Presents. They look past you. They look longingly. They look deeply. Even desperately at times. I saw it tonight. The Look.
My sandal strap broke coming off of the plane. No worries. I prefer barefoot over shoes anyday. Reach down. Pick them up and walk, unaware, to the shuttle. Barefoot. Out the doors. Down the Hallway. And I hear.
“There he is. Look, honey, it’s uncle Ray!” I see him on the other side of the wall. Trying to play hide and seek through the clear glass between them. Laughter. Sweet Laughter. His look? One of adoration. The look of "how fast can you get over here so I can give you a hug I've been storing up for weeks now - maybe months." Of course, I think of my own nieces and nephew. I smile. Look down. Look up. And....
Then I pass her. She is oblivious to all else around her except his eyes. She is searching and searching and desperately searching to see, to find, to meet his eyes. She has a look. As if in a maze, her eyes are darting to find the one pair that is the perfect pair. His. And she does. Her smile at that moment? I wouldn’t even attempt to do it justice with letters or words. I look at her. I look down, and I smile. If there is one thing I enjoy soaking in - it is the other side of love. There is a beauty of singleness. There is a bitterness. There is a sweetness. A sweetness of witnessing it as an invisible shadow on the outside looking in. Kinda like watching a movie. But its not – a movie.
And I walk on. Turning the corner. I see him. He is there neslted in a corner waiting as if a bird upon a branch perching in search of…..in search of….Her. He is cradling a cheap vase of flowers that he's obviously and proudly put together himself. Two peach roses. A little greenery. A bit of baby’s breath. And it is perfect. He is nervous. Looking down. Looking up. Looking around. Looking. In. Search. Of. Her. The Look.
And then there is me. On my way to spend a few days with the Lord. Just me and Him and the Sun and the Stars and the Look. I LOOK...... Actually at the moment, I SIT - outside by the curb on my luggage with my mac in my lap at "Vehicle Shuttle Number A-44" because I just can't wait until I get to the hotel to write down what's in my heart.
And that is?
A Look. THE Look. The Look of searching, crying, almost frantically grasping for His Eyes. In Search of Self. In Search of Him. I speak often of the things that come out of my mouth in session. Much of the time I am writing them down after they escape my lips. Why? They are not of me or from me. But they are About me - and you - and them. A few days ago it was this:
"The birthright of kinship that we were given when we were simply created by the King of the Universe and the Savior of the World gives us more worth than a lifetime of striving to prove ourselves could ever touch"
So I am - here. Now in the side room of the lobby of Quality Inn and my mind retreats back to her look. Her frantic, eye-darting, where-are-you-oh-my-love look. And I wonder.......Do I search for Him with such frenzy? Should we?
Whether it is for Him or for Something - we are all searching. These next few days....It is His Eyes. I had a friend tell me something amazing once. Life Changing for me. I asked him how he got through such difficult times? How did he keep such sanity and groundedness in the middle of a world-rocking experience. He said this:
"I Never Look Away From His Eyes."
He went on to explain that during the heartache, pain, chaos, angst, depression, Great Sadness, and despair, he would close his eyes and picture himself looking into the eyes of the Lord - refusing to look away. Distractions were not an option. Sidetracking not available. He and His Maker - His Strength - His Power. He would not look away.
So I sit practically in the dark. My room around the corner. In preparation for about 36 hours of phone-less, prayer-full, Word-filled, Spirit-led time with me and my God - and I pray that the Look in my eye in Search of the deep places of my Soul are as hungry for His Love as were those looks that I passed tonight.
Love. Adoration. Anticipation. Longing.
All of these things I pray for Father. All of these things I wish to find. In your eyes - alone. Looking at you. Looking at me. Looking ahead to what is to come. Looking. Seeing. Hoping.
As if I have entered your Holy of Holies. Humbly, I come. Humbly, I bow. Humbly, I search......for......your....eyes. Flowers in Hand, Peering behind a Glass Wall, Eye-darting desperateness -