You buy your ticket. You show to the airport early. You check in your bags. You wait for your flight to be called. You board in a single-file line and stow your carry-ons above your head or below your feet. You sit. You buckle-up. You try not to grit your teeth while the plane roars to life and thrusts itself off of the planet's surface. You pass the time by reading a book, a magazine, listening to your iPod, watching a movie, playing a game and taking a nap. And then finally -- finally! -- your destination is in sight. But something's wrong.
The pilot doesn't tell you what's wrong, not in any specific terms or words, but you find yourself circling the runway instead of landing on it. Maybe there's ice. Maybe there was a storm. Maybe some lights are out. Maybe another plane was routed to this same destination, and we need to wait for it to land before we can. Whatever the reason is, it's a little maddening. You can see your destination, yet you are not allowed to land. You're stuck in a holding pattern. You're not being sent to a different destination, you're not being told that you can't land, just that, "you can't land yet."
That's where we are now. We've done everything we can do, now we're just waiting. We're waiting for the Pilot to declare that it's time for us to land. People ask how it's going and we wish there was more to say. We wish we had some news. But the truth is, we're still eager, we're trying to be patient, but all we can do is wait.
Please continue to pray for us. Because as eager and patient as we are, these seats are cramped, there's a kid behind us who won't stop screaming, our latent claustrophobia is flaring up, the guy sitting beside us has severe body odor and no sense of personal space, the "keep your seat belts buckled" sign is lit up and we ate far too many peanuts and drank far too much Sprite.