Adapted from Facebook Post:
Because of a snowstorm, our direct flight to Denver was cancelled late last night. We almost missed the notification. After frantically trying to rebook for almost an hour, we got onto flights through Seattle. We won’t get into Denver until 10pm tonight, but we’ll make it to my appointment in the morning. Our dear friend came and picked us up, to drive us to the airport, because we couldn’t get out of our neighborhood. Praise God! He made a way.
Something special happened at the Portland, OR airport.
When our flight was canceled Sunday night. My mom frantically tried to rebook an early flight with a short layover, over and over, and it just wouldn’t go through. The flights with short layovers were all filling up and disappearing as she was trying to rebook, so she finally gave up and booked a different flight with a 3 1/2 hour layover in Seattle, we wouldn’t arrive in Denver until 10pm. She was very worried about how I would handle the long day.
After we boarded at Pdx, we sat on the plane for an hour because Seattle was backed up and not allowing aircraft to takeoff yet. Then the pilot announced that the check engine light had come on, so we had to deboard and move over one gate. Everyone was stressed and impatient. The plane was full of upset people, which 25 passengers didn’t reboard the new plane because they had missed their connections already.
When the pilot first announced the delay, I felt peace wash over me and knew that we were going to be just fine, make our connection and get to Denver in time for the appointment (which was only an opening because of a cancellation, otherwise we would not have gotten an appointment in CO for another month). I knew it would be okay because I believed God hadn’t let the flight we wanted go through. We had the luxury of the unwanted 3 1/2 hour layover!
We went over one gate and everyone crowed together while we were waiting to board the new plane. My mom noticed a man, about 35ish, standing near us. He was wearing a baseball cap, but he had a scar running down the back of his head and neck. We wondered if it was from an accident or something, but knew it was probably from brain surgery. my mom debated bothering him, but felt prompted to go. So she did.
She asked if he had had brain surgery. He lit up and said that he had. She told him that we were traveling to Denver to meet with a neurosurgeon for me. He immediately walked over to me and shared his story. Then the man traveling with him came up and introduced himself to my mom and said he was the man’s brother. Then turned to me and asked my name. I knew at that moment that he was a believer and he was going to pray for me.
He did. He asked if he could pray for me. I replied yes and then we all held hands in the middle of everyone and he prayed a beautiful prayer over me. Afterward, the brother who had had surgery turned to me. He looked me in the eyes and told me that he knew I would be okay because he could see it in my eyes. At that point, we didn’t yet know I would be having surgery.
He then asked where we were going. When we told him the Colorado Chiari Institute he was startled. He said that it is the top 1% of the 1%. We thought had that, but it was good to hear it from someone who was familiar with brain surgeries.
Weathering Chiari 