I arrive at 5:17 AM to board a 5:50 AM flight out of State College–and I find I have time to spare. I’m actually writing this as I wait to board my little plane. I give a wave to an airport worker I know. She once babysat my children. Yes, this is a small town.
It feels like such a blessing to live in this small town with a small airport. I always laugh when folks realize that in small airports, you really don’t need to arrive two hours early or even an hour early. I tell visitors to give yourself 30 minutes. Here in this town, you sort of tumble out of your car, breeze through security with maybe a few people ahead of you, and walk out to your plane.
But it’s not all joy here. I’m tired. I don’t love the 4:30 wake up time. But I do consider the privilege of waking up early to travel and what it means to finally arrive at a destination in my heart where I do uncomfortable things. Every hard thing develops perseverance, faith, and intimacy with Jesus.
So I press on. And my thankfulness for small towns and small airports helps foster joy. I remember to notice all that’s right when my tired body feels wrong. I remember to notice blessings, whimsy, and beauty.