I’m apologizing to the United Customer Service Representative as I shake with the phone in my hand. They’ve canceled my flight back home, and after an already exhausting and stressful trip out, I cannot imagine how I’ll make it emotionally if just one more thing goes wrong.
I’m fighting back tears and anger.
“I’m so sorry I sound like this,” I stammer. “I want to be kind, but I’m so stressed out! Why did United cancel this flight?”
I’m whispering prayers. I’m feeling homesick just imagining not making it home. I’m asking God to please help.
Then, the voice on the line assures me that I’ll be rebooked and will arrive home right on time. I learn that, because of my missed connection (the one that sent me renting a car and driving to Baltimore!) the airline canceled the rest of the reservation.
The agent pulls up the original reservation while I wait in silence.
But then, the voice says calmly, It’s going to be quiet on the line. You won’t hear me. But I am working. I am making this right. Stay on the line. You won’t hear anything, but I am here.
I turn to my friend who sits beside me to pray, and my soul feels like singing–not because everything will work out, but because of how it worked out. Something about the agent’s statement brought me the kind of soul-peace I knew was always mine. The words reminded me immediately of the character of God who is right here working. It’s that gentle voice I cannot always hear who says, “I am working. I am making this right. Stay on the line. You won’t hear anything, but I am here.”
Stay on the line. I am here. You won’t hear anything, but I am working.