She buries her head into my shoulder and begins to weep. I can see huge tears roll down her cheek and splash onto the arm of the airport chair. She is realizing that in moments she’ll board a flight for Georgia and soon after I’ll be on a plan to Arizona and once again there will be a thousand miles between us.

I am not so quick to comprehend the impending sadness, so I stop checking fantasy football scores on my phone and suggest we take a walk in the terminal. As we’re walking I notice an empty patch of wall and pull her out of the flow of foot traffic and hug her tight. People scurry around to and from their destinations but we escape in an embrace.

I close my eyes and feel the sorrow of goodbye. I realize I’m living a memory that I’ll keep with me forever, but I can’t hold on tight enough and soon she’s in the air and I’m delayed at the gate.

People line up to complain angrily to the agents but I’ve got enough on my mind to distract me from the inconvenience. I sit and watch them drag their luggage up to the counter, mumble and cuss, then drag it off to a chair to grumble some more to anyone who will listen.

Something reminds me of the story of my damned suitcase…

It was 2009 and I was trying to get out of Vegas. If you’ve been to Vegas you know the flight out is basically an evacuation: Get on board, get seated, get home… quickly.

I was traveling with an a new rolling suitcase that I had recently purchased. The label said it was carry-on eligible but real world experience was proving otherwise. It was a very tight squeeze, and I was nervous about it as it came my turn to board.

Several of my friends were already in their seats, so I scanned the aisles for a good space and quickly hoisted up my suitcase and tried the nearest overhead bin space. A couple of shoves and my mind was racing, “It’s not fitting. It’s not going to fit. People are waiting. You’re holding up everyone behind you.” So in a moment of panic I bail on the overhead bin and take a few steps forward and tried a different space. *Shove* *Shove* Nothing. I stop trying for a second and look to the back of the plane.

It was then that my friend Duane – who had been watching all of this with delight – shouted, “Keep trying! I hear the bins get bigger as you get toward the back of the plane!” This was followed by a chorus of laughs from people watching me and it gave me the motivation I need for one final shove to force the suitcase into the bin and swear under my breath that from now on that was a CHECKED bag.

I still get that story retold to me when I hang out with Duane.

But that experience taught me something that I only fully realize as I watch delayed passengers huff and puff and drag their suitcases around the San Antonio airport.

Stress isn’t a carry-on. We can choose to drag it around with us, let it slow us down and then try and stuff it in the overhead bin of our minds but wouldn’t it be so much better if we were able to let go and give it to God as a checked bag and trust that it will be ok?

In that moment I decide to check the baggage of long distance. I leave it in the hands of a God who was powerful enough to light a spark that lay dormant for a decade. A blessing 10 years in the making? I don’t think a few hundred miles are going to be much of a challenge for Him.

I encourage you to think about what stress you’re trying to cram into an overhead bin and check that baggage with someone who said once, “My burden is light.”

It’s the only way to fly.