This time tomorrow, the plan is for me to be in Iceland. (Since I am flying, I have to say it’s my plan rather than a certainty. I won’t bore you with the twists and turns it took to get out of Houston to arrive in Raleigh to catch my Icelandair flight).

This is my fifth trip to Iceland.

Trip number one was right after the Tax Day flood. I had already booked my tickets when rising waters forced me from my home. Iceland was the perfect place to go and heal.

I booked my second trip a year and a half later, right after I’d moved back into my newly restored home. As God would have it (or not), I evacuated once again to Iceland when my home flooded a second time.

I was asked by my parish to never book a trip to Iceland again. My next two trips were short stays in Iceland on the way to and from the Faroe Islands. They were named “Not Iceland” to reduce parish anxiety of floods being tied to my trips abroad.

So far, as I wait to board my plane, although there have been a world of catastrophes, a flood has not been one of them.

My best friend and I are returning to revisit our two favorite places in Iceland. The generosity of her and her husband make this trip possible for me.

Another friend asked me why I keep returning to Iceland. What pulls me to return?.

The clean air. The thermal heat and fresh water. The variety of ecosystems. The quiet. The beauty. The wide open spaces. A place so different from home that I get a soul reset. And a week with God’s air conditioning—coat, gloves and sweaters packed.

Less than two weeks ago I was leading a vestry retreat in Prairie View. The next day, I was in Marlin preaching and leading a congregational meeting.

Two days after that I flew to Indiana for a week to lead a retreat for women clergy at Our Lady of Grace Monastery.

I returned to Houston for a day and then flew into DFW to attend a friends’s installation as rector in Keller, spent the night with other dear friends, and this morning drove up to Chambersville to be with my family.

Tomorrow I fly home and can put my suitcase away for a couple of weeks.

My head is percolating remembering wonderful conversations with people of all ages. Some of those meetings were expected and others were those precious happenstances that sprout up along the way.

I’ve experienced all sorts of weather and a plethora of spring flowers.

I’ve prayed with my feet on labyrinths and prayed with my voice as I sang the daily office with my Catholic sisters.

I’ve walked downtown streets and paths through peace gardens.

I am certainly not retired yet.

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.