Unexpected

Monday September 19, 2016

Staffa

Today, the plans changed. The folks working at the Abbey had made a schedule and part of that schedule included a trip to the island of Staffa for those who were interested. The plan had been to go on Wednesday but the forecast is for a very windy rainy day.  So the folks in charge arranged for us to be able to go today. 

Not knowing anything about Staffa I was unsure if I wanted to go, in the end I decided I would, mostly because I wasn't sure what else I would do! 

I am so glad I did. 

The rock formations on Staffa are amazing. (The same type of rock formation as the Giant's Causeway.) And Fingal's cave is something you really need to see in person. We saw seals and even a whale. 

 

The whole day was a unexpected joy. 

When I was climbing along the rocks  I found myself singing / humming the old hymn "How Great Thou Art."

The unexpectedness of the sights and sounds of the days still haven't completely caught up with me. 

It did get me thinking about allowing ourselves to be open to the unexpected. Do we plan everything? Or wait to see what comes? Or are we somewhere in the middle?  

Life of faith can't be completely planned. The Holy Spirit has a way of getting involved in the best made plans. And instead, in the midst of everything else that is going on, whispers to our souls. Reminding us to look around. To soak up the unexpected. To sing the ancient hymns and let the words roll through us. 

"Then songs my soul, my God, how great thou art."

 

Be still and know that I am God

Sunday September 18, 2016

Today was my first full day at the Abbey. I really wasn't sure what to expect. The explanations I had received about my time here still kind of left me wondering. 

It turned out to be a wonderful mix of worship, discussions, and simply time. Today I had time to just be still. To not be planning what was to come next, or walking, or sight seeing, or meeting new people (although I did all those things). Instead for a few hours I had time to just be. To soak up the atmosphere here. 

 

Iona has been called a thin place. It is said that here there is very little only tissue paper separating the Spiritual and the material.  

As I allowed myself to relax, to let go and steep myself in the Holy Space, those ancient words came back to me. 

Be still and know that I am God.

I wonder how often we truly let ourselves do this. Not for 2 minutes before a meeting, but for an extended period of time. For as long as we need to. And then, maybe, a little longer. 

 

Unplugging

Saturday September 17, 2016

Travel to Iona

Today I'm on my way to Iona for a week. In fact I'm currently on the train that will take me to the ferry to take me to the bus to take me to the other ferry to take me to Iona. 

When I was reviewing the information yesterday I discovered that there isn't internet at the Abby. 

It took a little while for that to sink in. No internet. No email. No social media. No iMessages home. 

Time to unplug. I'm still not quite sure how I feel about that. It's been a long time since I've completely disconnected. Years in fact. 

But that's what's going to happen. Time to unplug. 

 

Breathless

Friday September 16, 2017

Glasgow. 

Today was my day to explore Glasgow. So I did the touristy thing and hopped on a hop on hop off bus and stopped at a museum that piqued my interest. 

So far this trip had been largely about amazing vistas. Wide open spaces. Silence.  The scenery of the highlands. Today was very different. 

I toured around the museum enjoying the artwork and artifacts. The stories they told. 

When I was part way through the museum I learned that they had Dali's Christ of St John  of the Cross. I had studied this painting in one of my classes at seminary and was excited to see it in person. 

There are no words really. It was one of those moments that simply took my breath away.  

Do we allow ourselves to be inspired? Stunned? Taken in by the beauty of the world? Moved by art or music? 

What leaves you breathless?

 

Where we belong

Thursday September 15, 2016

Edinburgh - Highlands. 

Today I did something very touristy. One of the pieces I was most disappointed in missing in not walking the second walk was to spend more time around Loch Ness.  As a child I had studied the legends around the Loch Ness monster. I remember writing a report on it in around the 3rd grade. The witness accounts, and the scientific study of the loch. I had spent sometime there while in Drumnadrochit, but it felt like I needed more. 

The couple I met in Drumnadrochit had previously lived in Fort Augustus and mentioned day tours from Edinburgh to this lochside town. So I looked them up and found one that included a loch cruise.

When I arrived in Edinburgh I felt myself tense up. Shoulders and neck and back. I wasn't sure why. 

Until the next day on the bus. It wasn't too long once we left the city. A few more hours and before I knew it we were back in the Highlands. And I felt myself relax. 

 

Growing up in a city, I always figured I'd live in the city. It was what I knew. 

But what we know isn't always where we belong. Knowing and finding where we belong is no easy thing. And it isn't always what we expected. But there are places that call to our soul. Places where we can be. For some it is the city. The people and buildings. For others it's the wide open spaces or small communities. 

The same is true in finding faith communities. It needs to be somewhere you cans relax and be. To soak in God's grace. To learn. To let go of what is burdening you. To be challenged and pushed. To repent. To be forgiven. To forgive others. All the pieces of spiritual life, of discipleship, begin with being where you belong. One place or constantly moving. Where is your soul called to be. 

 

Expectations

Wednesday September 15, 2016

Invermoriston-Edinburgh

Today I was in a little village named Invermoriston. It was one of the towns I had planned on staying in while I was walking, and decided to stay there for a night and explore the town. 

I had read about some beautiful waterfalls around the town and knew I'd want to hike to those - but there was also a well of St. Columba. 

 

Later this week I'll be traveling to the Abby on Iona and was excited to see some of the other sights off the Island of significance. 

I was more than a little disappointed in the well. For some reason I had built it up in my mind to something it just wasn't. 

 

But it did get me thinking about expectations. The ones we place on ourselves and the ones we place on others. Which are helpful? Which are harmful? Do we expect too much of ourselves? Or too little? 

What about in our churches and faith lives? What do we expect of people? Volunteer time? Engagement? Commitment to study and worship and spiritual disciplines? 

What expectations do we need to increase or hold on to and which should we let go of? What do a really need from ourselves and one another? How are we helping one another to live into God's expeditions? To do justice. To love kindness. To walk humbly with our God. 

Itchy Feet

Tuesday September 14, 2016

Drumnadrochit - Invermoriston. 

Today is my last day in Drumnadrochit. Halfway through the day I left and headed for the next town over Invermoriston. 

I have enjoyed my time here immensely. I loved getting to stay at one place a couple of days, and exploring one tiny part of Scotland. And yet when I woke up this morning I had itchy feet. I was more than ready to move on. I wanted to see what was next down the road. 

 

And I began to think of all the traveling that Jesus and his disciples did. They never really seemed to stay in one place that long.

Moving that often is both wonderful and exhausting. It is hard to never really feel settled.  And yet, sometimes there is this pull to keep going to see what is next. 

When in our faith lives do we need to get itchy feet? I don't mean necessarily to actually move, but to spiritually move. Stretch. Try something new. To ask new questions. To learn a new spiritual practice. To explore new mentorship. To try new worship expressions. 

It is so easy for us to get stuck. To get into a routine and stay there. Never branching out. Never exploring beyond what is right before us. 

One of the things we can learn from Jesus and his roving disciples is that change isn't always bad. Sometimes we need itchy feet in ourselves or our neighbors. We need to explore a bit more. Experience a bit more. Find new heights and depths of our relationship with Christ. To be challenged. 

Sometimes we could all use itchy feet.

 

 

Wonder

Monday September 12,2016

Drumnadrochit. 

Today was my second full day in Drumnadrochit. It really isn't that large of a town. So I set out on the walk to the nearby Urquhart castle. 

On the walk the views are of the Loch Ness. It is stunning scenery, and then you arrive at an Ancient castle. 

 

The castle's history which goes back almost a thousand years. 

After exploring a bit I sat and people watched for a while. Tour group after tour group came in. But what struck me most was the kids.

Their sense of awe and wonder. 

How quickly we seem to lose it. It is so easy for us to to become jaded and cynical. To learn the science of the Loch and scoff at the idea of mysterious creatures in its depth. 

To lean the history of a castle and fail to feel the wonder of wars over it for hundreds of years. 

So I took myself back up to the top of the castle and looked down again. 

And let myself wonder. Let myself feel the weight and mystery of the castle. Of the Loch below. From up high with the wind and the views stretching for miles it is easier to let oneself go. 

 

To hear the voices from the past. To wonder what witnesses saw on the loch.  

To image ancient people building lives in a harsh landscape. 

Today I was reminded of God's gift of wonder. Of how much we gain from it, and how important it is in our lives. 

Today, I let myself wonder. 

 

Hospitality

Sunday September 11, 2016

Drumnadrochit. 

Today I went to church. 

As a minister, this happens a lot. As a minster not working, this happens far less often. 

Yesterday when I got off the bus in Drumnadrochit I got off a stop too early. Right next to a sign giving me directions to a Church of Scotland church (Scottish Presbyterian essentially). And out of nowhere I knew I was going to attend this church the next day. 

So yesterday evening I went and found it, to see how long it would take me to walk there, and what time the services were. 

This morning walking to church I actually felt nervous. It made me realize all over again just how hard it can be for those not accustomed to it, to simply walk in the doors of the church. 

 

Once I reached the walkway I was greeted by a local who asked if I was visiting. He then introduced me to the greeters who were kind and warm and welcoming. 

Once the service began it felt like home. Slightly different theology, but not by much. Different hymns, but familiar tunes. 

It was after church, however, that I got a real sense of this community. One of the individuals I had met before the service encouraged me to come for tea or coffee. And before I even made it there a couple had come over, knowing nothing about me other than I was from Canada, and offered to have me over for lunch. 

I was taken aback a bit, but went. And am so glad I did. They were wonderful. A true representation of Christian hospitality. They fed me, and told me about the town and after lunch even took me to an ancient burial ground. One of the local attractions no one really knows about.

 

And then home again for tea. I spent most of the day with this couple. We talked about our lives and churches and countries and families. 

By the time I left I felt like I was saying goodbye to old friends. 

 

This was a church and community that does hospitality WELL. And it wasn't because they had a perfect committee (although I'm sure they have one for greeters at least). Some of it is due to the fact that they get a lot of visitors and so a lot of practice. And some of it is simply that it's something they enjoy. It is part of their identity. 

Welcoming the stranger.  

When Plans Change

Saturday September 10, 2016

I like to think of myself as being flexible. The go with the flow kind of person. The kind of person who isn't upset or worried by a simple change of plans. 

And somedays, I am this person. 

But somedays I am not. 

Yesterday as I began to think about the beginning of my next walk, to wonder about supplies etc it occurred to me that I still couldn't put my hiking boots back on. My feet were too swollen and beat up. This is is bit of a problem if you're about to undertake at 60mile hike. 

So I hemmed and hawed and prayed. And decided to cancel the second walk and instead stay a few days in a couple different towns. 

This was not an easy decision to make. I was frustrated and felt guilty. Which was more than a little ridiculous. 

But I had plans!!

So today as I arrived in the village I would be spending three whole nights in a row in, I was surprised when I mostly felt relief. 

Life, vacations, faith, are rarely as simple as we'd like. And rarely go completely as planned. How do we react when we have to change plans? When the best laid plans simply don't work out? So we rejoice in what we find? Or simply wish we had what we fear we are missing? 

Drumnadrochit is a charming, if small, village and I'm looking forward to exploring it, some of the surrounding walking trails, and spending some time at the loch.  

 

It may not have been what I had originally planned, but it seems God is reminding me that my plans aren't usually the best ones anyway. Something good is in store. 

A few steps further

Friday September 16, 2016

Fort William

Today was my third day in Fort William and I was beginning to get antsy. The town is not very big and I had been up and down the tourist stretch more times than I could count. So I stopped in at a cafe and asked the local barista what I should do. 

He asked if I'd seen the old fort yet. 

When I said no he told me, walk till it looks like you've hit the edge of town then it's a few steps further. 

So that's what I did. It really wasn't very far at all, but just outside of where all the tourist busses stop it seemed like a whole different world. Old stone walls, valiantly rebuilt. Steps leading down to the waters edge and a harbor with the hint of what this town once was, and on some levels still is, a fishing village. 

 

It felt like a completely different place. 

For starters I was mostly alone, except for a couple locals out for a picnic. 

And the glitz and tourist enhancements just weren't there. 

No souvenirs being sold.

Just the heart of a town once built around the fort designed to keep it safe. And the fisherfolk who came to work there. 

 

It was the best part of my visit to Fort William. 

How often do we stop just a few steps short? When do we fail to look past what is obvious and easy in order to see what is just beyond us?

When I think of the act of becoming disciples (myself and others) it feels like a parable that Jesus would have told. One that no one really understood. The surface meaning all that was grasped. 

Today was a reminder to keep looking, to keep seeking. To go deeper. 

The train to nowhere.

Thursday September 8, 2016

Fort William. 

Today I rode a train. Just that sentence seems a little ridiculous to me. And yet for most of the day, that is exactly what I did. 

 

Here in Fort William there is an old steam engine train, called the Jacobite.  Although it is much more commonly known as the Harry Potter train. If you've seen the movies then I'm sure you'll recall the iconic shot of the steam train crossing the viaduct (or great big bridge as I've been known to call it). This is the train used in the movies. It travels over that same stretch of track. 

When I heard about it I thought what a fun way to spend the day, that also does not require walking.  

And it was fun. And the scenery was stunning. 

 

And somewhere along the way it occurred to me that it hadn't previously occurred to me to care about where the train ends up! The destination didn't matter at all. 

How rare is that? That we can say we are in something solely for the journey.  That where we end up matter not at all. 

Our culture, our world is always pushing us to be on our way somewhere. Climbing the corporate ladder, finishing a project, raising our kids, etc etc etc 

And yet our faith lives are so much more about the journey. Yes we talk about life after death, but there is also so much more in our relationship with God along they way. How we discover ourselves and our world. How we step into God's grace. How we experience that grace for ourselves and share it with others.  Becoming disciples. Encouraging other disciples along the way. 

The train stops twice. Once briefly at a little village with enough time to tour the tiny museum, or if you're me discover friends you've met are also on the train and find a little path to a little red phone booth. 

 

And the end of the train ride, you stop for a couple hours in a little fishing village. Mallaig. It was a lovely villages suddenly full of tourists, while simultaneously a working fishing village. It was such a strange juxtaposition. And yet the perfect place to stop for a bit. To visit with folks I never expected to see again, before our journeys once again took us in different directions. 

Today I took a train that I thought went nowhere, and rediscovered the power of the journey, of becoming a disciple myself. 

 

Rest...no, for real

Wednesday September 7, 2016

Fort Williams. (Rest day: day 1)

Today was the first of three days I had scheduled between walks. It was always intended to be a day to relax, write, read, maybe do a bit of sightseeing. 

I have rediscovered about myself, that I don't do rest well. 

I'm pretty good at talking about rest, the importance of sabbath time, and even encouraging others to take it. I'm not as good at taking it myself. So building in a rest day seemed like a great idea. 

And my feet certainly agreed. Even as others in the hostel where I was staying were shocked I was spending the bulk of the day there, I remained committed to the plan. Largely because I had little choice. 

I may have gotten a little more beat up on the trail than I even realized. My feet now swollen are protesting the very idea of any footwear. 

So here I sit. Enjoying a cup of coffee and a gorgeous view from the window pondering what it really takes in our lives to make us stop and rest. 

 

Do we ever stop before we're forced to? God speaks over and over of balance and harmony and yet our world encourages us to go and go and go. 

And so many of us do.... Until we hit the proverbial wall. Today I am taking my aches and pains as a tangible reminder from God that part of this sabbatical is for rest. Rejuvenation of body and spirit. And maybe, just maybe the built in rest time is as important as the learning and going and doing times. 

When God said rest - God meant it. Right. Balance.

The End

Kinlochhleven - Fort Williams

Day 7.

Tuesday September 6, 2016

Today was the final day of the West Highland Way. The final 24km(but actually 30km). 

After such a long day yesterday, I simply did not want to walk.  At all. Anywhere. Ever again. 

The day began a little later than I had hoped, my feet were very sore so I was moving very slowly.  And it began with a hefty climb to the top of the ridge. I was soon getting passed by everyone as I was walking slower than I ever had. 

When I reached the top of the ridge and looked back at the village I had left an embarrassing 40 minutes before, I almost held my breath. It was a beautiful view. I was captivated. Suddenly I had energy all over again. 

 

There was certainly a part of me that simply did not want to keep going, but the sun was finally shining (a rare occurrence to be treasured!) and the views were once again breathtaking. 

It seems everyday of walking brought new and varied and stunning scenery. And so, as much as I did not want to be walking, I also couldn't imagine doing anything else. I both couldn't wait for it to be over, and never wanted it to end. 

 

The last of the walk was very painful. A long time on pavement. And the end, in the middle of town next to a statue of a man rubbing his feet brought relief and a bit of sadness. 

 

I loved this walk. Even the painful parts. I'm still processing everything - and imagine I will be for a long time to come. Part of me is already dreaming about coming back and doing it all again. 

The West Highland Way has captured a part of me - and it won't be letting go anytime soon. 

 

What mountain top?

Bridge of Orchy to Kinlochhleven. 

Monday September 5, 2016

Today was my longest day. 34km according to my maps. 39km once you add in the distances to and from my accommodation to the trail. This was a long long day. That included beautiful scenery across the moors, the devil's staircase (seriously that's what it's called, not what I named it), mountain top vistas and mountain pass views. 

It was by far my favorite day for scenery. 

And so so long. The first part (22km) it rained. And was misty or foggy. So not a lot of pictures of the stunning scenery - some of which I could see. 

 

After a quick lunch break and a visit with some deer came the climb. The climb that seemed to never end. 

 

As I was climbing what is known as the devil's staircase (because it is so steep) all those mountain top stories kept coming back to me. 

Moses up on a mountain talking to God. 

Jesus and the sermon on the mount. 

And especially the transfiguration. 

When we talk about these stories we talk about what happens at the top. Somehow we never seem to talk about the climb. As I was climbing and climbing and climbing I kept asking myself if it was worth it? And I began to wonder what the disciples had been saying to each other as they climbed. "Where are we going?" "Why are we still climbing?" "What, exactly is the point of climbing this giant hill?"

I could imagine them expecting something important and life transforming once they reached the top. And perhaps, even answers. Clarity. So they climbed on. 

When I finally reached the top. The view was indeed stunning (despite the fact that it was still raining). But the clarity and clear concise answers I had hoped for did not magically appear.  Mostly I was wet and tired. 

And suddenly I had way more sympathy for those disciples at the transfiguration.  It was a hard climb and then they got there and experienced the transfiguration. A powerful moment.  But one with more questions than answers.  The climb, so long. So hard. Get to the top. Now what? This is it? 

Just as the climb surely takes longer than we want - so to do answers. And clarity. They're never as quick in coming as we want. And it seems, they rarely arrive in the big grand mountain top moments we want. Instead we find ourselves at the top of the mountain going "ok, so now I just go back down?" 

But the view sure is amazing. 

 

Follow your instincts... not the crowd

Crainlarich-Bridge of Orchy

Sunday September 4,2016

Today started out well. The sun was shining (not always the reality here) and despite the pain in my feet I felt otherwise good. The short day the day before had served me well. I was ready to walk! 

The scenery was lovely, and I passed some interesting historical sights including the ruin of an old monastery. 

 

But that's when things went off the rails. There was a fork in the road. And rather than looking for sign posts or checking my map. I followed the two groups ahead of me. 

At first this seemed like no big deal. But before long I'd climbed a hill for about 1.5-2km and the path I was following was gone.  All that was left was field. And more field. And a lot of mud. And some water puddles. And did I mention the mud and field. 

I looked at the groups ahead of me. Still doggedly trying to climb the hill. But I turned and looked down.  Bellow me was a farm house. I figured there at least I could get directions! So I trekked down the hill. Through more mud and water. Climbed a fence and found my way to a path. 

Turns out this was the nice level path I should have been following all along. 

I thought it felt off but I trusted the people ahead of me more than myself. 

How often does something just not quite fit for us be we continue on because it's what everyone is doing?  It seems to me this is the life of faith. Knowing when to follow the crowd and when to say no, that's not quite right.  It's just a little off. We can do better. If we lean a little more toward Christ and a little away from the pack, that, I think, is where we find our sign posts, our path, our way through the wilderness. 

There's always a way if we're willing to trust the one leading us. 

 

It's ok to say no.

Inverarnan-Crainlarich

Saturday September 3, 2016

 

Today was day 4. And a break day for me. Only walking 10km I reached my destination by lunch (all while walking with someone else and a bit slower than my normal pace). And I thought about going onward to make the next day shorter. But I reconsidered. And am so glad I did. I can sit with my feet up for a few hours. Catch up on some writing. Maybe even get some of these posted!! 

And take care of the cold that is threatening me. 

Sometimes it's ok to say that's enough for today. To take a break. To relax. To stop and appreciate what you've accomplished already. 

Today I am at the unofficial halfway point. 

3 long days left (or 4 more reasonable days but more about that later once I decide). 

So here. Halfway across the West Highland Way. I will relax. And rest my poor sore toes. And rejoice in hot tea and some biscuits.  And maybe even find some soup for supper!

 

The theme of the day is mud and rocks

Today is sponsored by Advil. 

Rowardenan-Inverarnan 

Friday September 2, 2016

 

Day 3 was hard. And long. And I was tired. But then a bit of Advil. A whole lotta well here we go. And off again...

 

Today was muddy. And and so many rocks. All the rocks really. Some large ones helping you to cross streams or rivers. Others to cross mud pits. Some to form alms or staircases up and down parts of the hills (surely designed for people much taller than me). And some just to be in the way. 

It got me thinking about obstacles. Those we put in our own way, making our journeys more difficult and those we see as obstacles but are actually there to help us. We encounter both all the time. And some of the way obstacles give way to he coolest things (like finding Rob Roy's cave) and some ease our passage (like crossing some of those streams) and some we make out the be worse than they would have been. 

I was trying to avoid a bit of mud (although by that point there was no reason to. I was very very muddy). And so I stepped to the side on a large rock. Turns out the rain that had made the mud also made the rock slippery. And I fell. Not far or particularity hard (which is lucky as I was walking near a very large drop off down to Loch Lomond) but fall I did. Into a thorn bush. All trying to avoid the simplest of obstacles. A little bit of mud. Scratched up I learned that lesson but wondered about all the other times I (and I'm sure others) make things harder on ourselves then we really need to. 

Somedays you just gotta go through some mud. 

 

The voices in our heads

Drymen-Rowardenan

Thursday September 1, 2016

 

One of the things they don't warn you about on long distance walks is the voices in your head. Who will be speaking to you today? What will they be saying? Will it change moment to moment?

Here, for me, it changes constantly.

Sometimes I found myself singing hymns. Especially the old ones. How great thou art especially. But many others. 

Other times it was Dory (from finding Nemo) she showed up when my feet hurt the worst. Just keep swimming just keep swimming. 

Sometimes it was a drill Sargent. Especially on the large hills. Get yourself up that hill!!

And other times it was actual people! I've met several folks along the way. There was a group of us that all stayed at the first place together in Drymen. And we've kind of been looking out for one another. Some walk quicker than others so you pass each other and then meet again at the end of the day. But when we meet on the trail the faster (sometimes me, sometimes not me) will slow down and chat for a bit. How are things? Etc. 

One couple also from Canada that I've seen a lot of I walked with for a longer period of time on my second day. And it was hilarious how we would all groan at the sight of another hill at the same time. And now I hear their voices too. Just one step at a time. You can make it. One step at a time. 

 

They've joined my cloud of witnesses. They've been my cheerleaders as I've been theirs. 

The voices we hear that support us, offer us guidance and help. Ground us spiritually and give us so much room to do things we never expected. 

I am grateful for all those I hear in my head. Including all those folks from back home who I am missing! 

Here my soul rejoices

Milngavie-Drymen

Wednesday August 31, 2016

 

Have you ever been exhausted and yet so calm or happy or fulfilled that it didn't matter?

This was day one of the West Highland Way. The first day of 154km hike (+ the km to your sleeping destinations no one warns you about). 

The hike was beautiful. As promised. And very tiring. Also as promised. But somehow my soul just lifted. As I crossed my first 10km and entered the actual highlands it was as though my soul has always known this place. I had come somewhere I had been missing and didn't even realize it. 

 

My soul sings in these hills. Even as my feet ache. 

My soul waits on the Lord...or airplane parts

My soul waits on the Lord....

Or airplane parts. 

Monday August 29, 2016

 

Before departing for the 5 weeks of my sabbatical that are to take place overseas I felt myself getting more and more anxious. And I could not figure out why. Part of me was over the moon excited. And part of me thought I have made a terrible mistake and this was a terrible plan. I was both ready to go and sure I would never be ready. 

How often do we all feel like this?  

Once I arrived in Halifax for my 5 hour layover I thought ok. It'll be fine. But I'm not one for waiting.  I hate waiting. Patient I am not. 

And soon my five hour layover was 7 hours. Then 9. Finally, after a 4 hour delay I was on my way again. Anxiety completely gone. Now I was ready. 

It seems that God was reminding me that sometimes, waiting is ok. That I don't have to be in such a rush ALL the time. Sometimes I can relax a bit. 

And an airport full of slightly grumpy yet still pleasant employees and travelers was an excellent reminder of this!