Monday, June 6, 2016

“God put us here, on this carnival ride. We close our eyes never knowing where it'll take us next.” ― Carrie Underwood

In August of 1964, I was returning to Abilene, Texas, where I would begin my sophomore year at McMurry College (now University—same size, bigger name).  I was flying from Alexandria, Louisiana, where I had been staying with my parents.  I was flying on the luxurious Trans-Texas Airways through Dallas, Texas, by way of Love Field (DFW wasn’t even an idea yet).  The picture at the right is of the DC-3 in which I flew—true luxury.  There was a three-hour layover at Love Field till I could catch an evening flight to Abilene.  Interestingly, it would be after that same flight the following January that I would propose to Karen in the Abilene Airport parking lot.  I was always a romantic.  Back to my story, I was a nineteen-year-old killing time at the Dallas Airport.  There were huge banners strung around the airport that just said, “He’s Coming!”  None of them said who “he” was, just that “he” was coming.  Every now and then there would be an announcement over the loudspeaker that would say, “He’s Coming.  One hour to go.”  Now I was beginning to wonder about who this “he” was.  I knew Christ was coming back but I didn’t think it would be through Love Field in Dallas, but what did I know?  Soon enough, with almost two hours till my plane took off, the loudspeaker roared, “He’s here!  Delta, Gate 8.”  Well, if it was Christ and I just sat there and missed His second coming, I would feel pretty bad, so I followed the crowd down toward Delta Gate 8.  I got pushed forward until I was out on the runway and on the front row of people lined up from the bottom of the steps coming down from the plane.  Sure enough, the door opened and down the stairs came Senator Barry Goldwater who was running for president that year against LBJ.  He shook my hand briskly as I stood there and made his way on into the building.  Later, my flight made its way to Abilene and I would begin my second year of college and would meet the woman I would marry just nine months later, but you read about that yesterday.  Now you know, that if you hear “He’s here!  Delta Gate 8," you don’t really need to hurry—it won’t be Jesus.
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