Getting Nudged in Toronto
So much was mentioned about nudgings at Cursillo. "Be aware of God's nudgings in your life" was often mentioned during the meetings. Those little incidents, where, if you pay attention and watch and listen, God is there and is sometimes right before you.

Such an incident occurred to me. It happened Thursday night flying home from Toronto. The previous weekend was my first Cursillo. I was touched and challenged and listened to what God was saying. But I was home less than 12 hours because I had to catch a taxi at 5 am Monday morning for a flight to New York. Wednesday evening I flew to Toronto for meetings and would leave on a mid-afternoon flight to finally come back home. When I arrived at my hotel downtown Toronto Wednesday evening, I was exhausted. Early mornings (starting with Cursillo Friday) and continuing every day. Late evenings too, at least for me. The 11 o'clock bed times had caught up to me. While I was unlocking my 9th floor door at the Holiday Inn downtown Toronto, the phone was ringing. It was Greg, one of my co-workers who is working with me on a big Corporate-wide project. "I can't meet for breakfast tomorrow", he told me, "but can meet tonight. Is that alright? Let's go out for dinner." I said alright but really was groaning instead. I wanted to go to bed. Besides, I always have a hard time falling asleep if I eat a meal so late in the day. Two hours later our meal was over. Our discussion about work was over too. He did most of the talking. He needed to talk and he liked having a shoulder to pour his work burdens on to.

Thursday morning came early, but the sleep was good. I was eager to get going. I only had a half day or so and then I can finally go home and see my family again. A 3:15 flight means going to the airport by 1 since I needed to go through customs. I pulled open the curtain and just had to laugh. For in front of me was nothing; white nothing. It was a blizzard. A huge blizzard where the flakes are big and it's coming down so hard and fast that you can't see. I just had to laugh. The evening before the moon was full and bright. The weather on the radio in the car from the airport just mentioned showers; no snow.

My mind raced through my many options for my day. But my Cursillo Palanca letters often mentioned "Let Go, Let God". Here, I thought, was a good opportunity. I made it to my meetings and got a ride to the airport. All the calls I made indicated that the flight was still on. The snow had stopped before noon and was beginning to rain. 8 inches on the ground by my estimation. I checked in at the terminal and the flight was still on but now pushed back to 4 pm. I was grateful. Because earlier in the morning, I had considered changing my flight to the 2 pm departure knowing that there would be delays. And I figured that if there were delays, I wouldn't be delayed as long as the later flights. For some reason, I felt that I shouldn't do that. A nudging from the Lord. The 2 pm flight to Chicago was canceled sending those originally on that flight scrambling to find standby seats. I had a seat on the 3:15 which has now been pushed back until 4:40. "4:40 Toronto time is 3:40 Chicago time-"good, I can have dinner with everyone", I imagined.

After 2 gate changes and several more delays, we began boarding at 6:30. It was hot and everyone was anxious to get on board. No calling the rows by number this time, the entire mass of people on the flight inched toward the gate together. I had a seat near the front at the window. When I got there, the person sitting in the aisle seat was there. He was tired and seemed automatic as he moved to let me in, not saying anything or showing any expression. Several minutes later, an older slender gentleman can in. He sat in the seat across from ours and one row back. He was talking often, usually to himself, but just enough so I heard him but could not make out what it was. He mentioned to the guy on the aisle that he has the seat in the middle. The older white-haired man asked him if he could sit on the aisle. "No" he said, being pretty disturbed that this guy would have the nerve to even ask. "But I will move out so you can get in." So here he comes. He was shorter than I, white hair, European descent. It was obvious that he wanted to talk. I wanted to sleep and the guy on the aisle wanted to read his newspaper. He talked about the flight and why doesn't the airline be more upfront about their delays rather than occasionally pushing the time back. "I'm just thankful that we're actually getting to leave today" I thought. Well, it wasn't too long before he gets up and goes to the front of the plane for water. He was gone for about 10 minutes and sits back down. Some time passed while they added the two standby passengers chosen from the thousands waiting to fly to Chicago. Then he says, "it's hot in here, I need some more water", and away he goes again. All the while, the guy on the aisle is getting frustrated, wondering "why me?" and looking over to me, shaking his head. I laughed because I thought it was funny.

Now more time has passed. We have moved away from the gate but are sitting, not moving. I watch the busyness of the airport at night after a big snow. Lights flashing everywhere and snowplows of all shapes and sizes are buzzing all around. Finally the announcement is made that we will be taxiing for a while (Toronto's taxiways are the longest I have ever seen) and then we are going to park off to a distance area for de-icing. Well now this guy in the middle is getting anxious. He precedes to tell me that he's going to Sao Paulo, Brazil and his flight is at 9 pm from O'Hare. It's now about 7:20. He's beginning to wonder if he will make his flight. He's angry at the airlines for stringing him along during the afternoon wait and he's not happy. Then he begins asking me about what I thought of airline passenger's rights. Like, "Don't I have a right to ask to get off this plane if I want to?", and "Don't I have a right to demand better service", and "What would happen if I wanted to get off, would they let me off?. By now, he's waiting for my answer and not just talking to hear himself. "I don't know" I said, getting nervous about his frustration and wondering if this discussion would get too realistic and then I would get interviewed on the evening news about a bizarre plane incident in Toronto.

The captain allowed for phones to be used while we were waiting to get de-iced. I thought I should call home. Normally I don't call home with every change in the schedule like today. It's too hard on Kim. It's too much of an emotional rollercoaster to do that to her. But I thought it would be okay to call and tell her that I am on my way even though it still may be an hour before we leave with 7 planes in front of us waiting for the de-icing spray. I talked with her for quite a while. It was nice and I missed her and the children.

Finally, after the de-icing the plane, we begin to go to the runway. It's 10 after 8 when we take off. That's 7:10 in Chicago. The flight is a little bit more than an hour actual flying time and it's raining hard at home. "Do you think I will make my flight?" he asks me again. This time I said yes without any hesitation and with great confidence. I did that because I thought he would drop the conversation about it. But I knew that in fact, it would be close.

Throughout the flight, he would occasionally ask me a question or two. During the handing out of drinks, he struck up a conversation with the aisle guy and found they had lots in common. They both spoke Italian, lived in Montreal and Toronto during their lives and knew Italy and had family there. Then they began speaking in Italian and off they went, speaking loud and lively, becoming instant friends.

On our descent, we ran into some rough weather. Raining very hard, turning, weaving and had quite a dip at one point that brought a good yelp from a few people. We landed. he asked me again, "do you think I will make it?" I said that he would. And then he leaned over and said, "you know, I happen to be listening to your conversation, and I heard you say a couple times to your wife, 'please pray for us'". "Please pray for us", he said again. "You said 'us'. Not me; us." I shook my head yes each time he said that. Then he said, "why 'us'?" "Why not 'me'?" pointing to me? "Because I want the whole plane to be safe, not just me" I told him. "Do you pray a lot? Why?" "Because I love the Lord" I told him. And for the next 10 minutes I went on to tell him how I became a Christian while in high school. I told him that God loves us so much that he wants to be with us forever. But His standard for perfection is so high that none of us meets it. We all fail. That's why he sent Jesus; to live, die on the cross and was resurrected so that if we believe in Him our sins would be forgiven and we would live with Him forever in heaven.

He was getting it and was very interested. His look told me. He asked if I went to church every Sunday and where I went. I told him but I also said that "it's a relationship that I am talking about with Jesus. It's not a religion or a denomination. It's a relationship. In fact, Jesus would have died just for you if you were the only one on earth. He loves you. I told him to read the bible. Read John in the New Testament. Start there and know that God loves you." The conversation continued. We exchanged business cards and I learned he and his son own an Italian restaurant downtown Toronto. His name is Massimo.

We exited the plane after saying goodby. I met up with the aisle guy in the terminal while he was looking back for Massimo. For some reason Massimo was now behind us, out of sight. We were let off in terminal C and the furthest gate at the end. The time was now almost 5 minutes before 9. I went back to meet him at the walkway to see if I could help him since O'Hare was new to him. I met up with Massimo and he was smiling when he saw me. Together we asked a United attendant at the boarding gate where we got off about his flight. "Sao Paulo, on time, departing at 9:05, gate B17".

"I'll go with you and help you" I told him as we began running. "It's pretty far and in the next terminal". "Thank you so much, Thomas", he would say to me as we were running. All the way to the stairs to go down below, then down under and the walk to terminal B.We ran and got to the moving sidewalk. I was behind him as he firmly asked people to move over as he ran by on the sidewalk. I was right there behind as he parted frustrated passengers who were wondering who in the world is this pushy old man.

Now it was up the stairs and into terminal B. We were making good time but we had to go to gate 17. Half way there, he stopped, put his bags on a roller cart that was sitting out in the corridor, and ran on pushing his new found cart. I didn't dare look back to see if he had taken someone's who was buying a magazine or in the bathroom! I was getting awfully tired by this time. My work bag was heavy with my notes, computer and other gear. "17 is all the way down at the end" I told him as we began running even faster now. It was almost a sprint. He didn't want me carrying his bags, he said he was okay. Gate 17 was the last gate and as we headed down that way, I saw the sign lit up with the words, Sao Paulo. The only people that were there were the United ticket handlers just hanging around talking. "Okay, this is it", I told him as we slowed our run. "We made it. Have a great flight." He thanked me about 3 times, over and over, always calling me Thomas (from my business card). "I'm going to Sao Paulo", he yelled to them as he got closer. "What's your name?", they asked and began talking to him as he pulled out his ticket. I stepped back and stood there watching him. Breathing heavy, but thankful that we had made it.

"Goodbye my friend", I yelled to him as he was walking down to the door of the jetway being escorted by the United Airlines ticket woman as she needed to unlock it for him. He turned around and said, "thanks so much Thomas". "Don't forget to read John" I said. "I won't, and thanks again for helping me." With that he turned back round, hugged the woman goodbye and disappeared behind the door.

I just stood at the end of concourse B by gate 17. Massimo was gone. He made his flight. And all this happened so fast.

I just stood by myself thanking God for His nudge and that I had obeyed it.

Tom
(written February 8, 2001)