I drive a lot in my job. Whenever I can fly instead of drive it feels like a bit of a perk.

I chose to fly to DFW today instead of driving. My dear friend, Alan Bentrup, is being installed as rector of a parish in Keller. It’s a bonus visit because his diocese will soon be joining mine, and I go as more than a friend; I get to represent the diocese. Another bonus is that my best friend’s family worship in the church where Alan serves, and I can spend the night with them AND get to see my best friend, too.

And yet another bonus is that I can do the drive to my Mom’s and see her and my daughter for a pre-Mother’s Day visit.

I decided I’d travel in my clergy gear since I’m traveling for work. And I was curious if people would act differently.

I don’t think anyone has noticed except two people have asked me to watch their luggage while they go to the bathroom. So maybe so! Though I will say that most people when they see me in my collar think I’m a nun.

Boarding soon after a weather delay. Traveling mercies to us all.

Part of my first world privilege is that I have passes to airport lounges. Frankly, at some airports the public spaces are more lovely than the private ones. Just so you know.

When I checked into the lounge at SFO for my loooooong wait, I told my tale of mild woe to the man at the service counter. He was kind.

Four hours later, as I left the lounge to walk to my gate, he called out to me and asked how I was doing. He took it upon himself to check and make sure a better seat hadn’t opened up. So kind.

I looked at his name tag—Jesus. We had a little chat about his name, and he said how great it was to look in the mirror each morning and think, “Wow! I’ve seen Jesus!”

I could have gone off on a theological discourse about serving Jesus in others (which he had done) and Jesus being in all of us (the back and forth of seeing Jesus in everyone)—and the like, but a line had formed behind me. I had been the center of the world for long enough.

I circled back in line so I could leave him with my card—offering the invitation that a prayer was only a text or email away. He thanked me.

I left my wait with a smile on my face and, yes,prayers of thanks in my heart with special prayers of blessing for Jesus.

I’d been with Jesus. In every theological way.

I’m traveling again.

Last week for work, I drove to Camp Allen in Navasota then back to Houston. Then to Nacogdoches. Tyler. Chambersville. Houston. Bastrop. Austin. Houston.

Now I’m in San Francisco and on the way to Bend, Oregon. Thankfully, this time I’m not driving.

Except. In Houston, the pilot honestly told us that our San Francisco flight would be delayed—because the first officer hadn’t arrived due to “human error.” Overslept is the story I made up.

As a result, I missed my connection and have a six hour wait before the next flight. I got the last seat on that flight, at the very back of the plane.

I should have given up whiny and cranky and anxious for Lent. Or, perhaps it’s good I didn’t. Getting up at 3.45 this morning hasn’t helped.

I’m trying to find an inspiring spin to this day and can’t seem to pull one up.

I have been kind to all of the helpers who mostly couldn’t help. I am praying. Some.

I’m trying to use my super power of reframing. It is a stretch for me today.

So here I go:

1. Tonight I’ll be with my grandsons and son and daughter in law (speaking positivity into the future).

2. I didn’t crash.

3. I just ate a fabulous brownie (because I never give up chocolate for Lent) and have endless access to my beverage of choice—sparking water.

4. I finished a very good book while I’m waiting and will start another.

5. And once again, I am reminded that all my “problems” are very first world and those of a most privileged woman.

Okay. I’m more reframed. Thank you for listening. You can give yourself a check mark for a good work today.

A friend, after reading yesterday’s blog, wanted to know about the place I was retreating. Like so many of us, she was in need of a time away for spiritual refreshment.

Although in the days before the you know what, I retreated at least annually to Our Lady of Grace Monastery, in the you know what times, we have to be more creative. In these times, we especially have an invitation to create our own retreat, alone or with spiritual partners.

Here is my recipe for a create your own retreat:

Select a place to go where you can find a quiet space and includes access to the outdoors.

You can go with a plan, or create it as you move through the day. Ideally, it includes something to read,

something to make,

a place and a way to move, preferably outside

time to be still and silent, time to rest and time to laugh. What will you eat? Where will you eat?

For this Epiphany retreat, I chose a house I’ve rented many times which is familiar, pretty, and comfortable. It includes a kiva, well-stocked kitchen, beautiful art, and a garden with tables and chairs.

Before I entered the house, I made a stop at Cid’s grocery for food essentials—good bread, local cheese, half and half, organic fruit, ice cream and locally roasted coffee from my favorite coffee place.

Mornings bring a variety of quiet activities. This retreat has included some paired devotions—my friend and I are reading aloud the Gospel of Luke and from a book of poetry written by a woman of riper years—all in front of the fire.

And then the day enfolds with an intentionality of mindful attention to soul restoration.

A retreat plan anyone can use.