The Cost of a Careless Mistake

We landed at Brussels Airport on Brussels Airlines on transit. We had 1 hour and 15 minutes to catch our connecting flight to Bristol for the UK leg of our 6-week holiday. I had my haversack with my necessary adult diaper changes as well as my small bottle of water for washing myself in case I had an "accident". This was because of my short gut and my absent rectum - result of the two surgeries I had to get rid of the cancerous tumours in my gut and abdominal cavity.

I had managed to clear the Vienna airport security check with my bottle of water in tact, so when Woon Yi reminded me about it, I ignored her. After all, they had allowed me through.

The Brussels Airlines was delayed for 30 minutes and we arrived at Brussels Airport 20 minutes late. That gave us just under an hour to catch our connecting flight. That, we thought was still enough time, until we saw the mass of transit passengers waiting to clear customs. EVERY flight's transit passengers were diverted to this hall. At the end of the long snake-like queue was one (1) custom officer checking passports. Many passengers were milling around trying to cut the long queue only to be told off by other stressed out passengers. Some approached the booth to explain that they had to catch connecting flights, only to be asked to join the line. I thought it was ridiculous and compared it to our very efficient Singapore Airport.

One foreign-looking (Indian, I think) service personnel wearing a luminescent green jacket tried to get everyone in line. Many of us kept looking at our watches and I was suddenly unsure if we would make it for the connecting flight.

After passing customs, we had to get through the security check. Lap tops, phones and other electronic devices had to be taken out, as well as loose change, belts with metal buckles, some types of shoes and boots, as well as jackets and sweaters. Or turn came and my haversack was taken aside. I panicked. I knew it was because of the water in my pack. It was liquid and more than the permitted 100 ml for sure!

I got through the scanner and tried to alert the officer about my pack. He said it had to go through the x-ray machine again. I patiently waited my turn. Then the pack was taken aside and emptied. They found the water bottle which they set aside. Then the pack went through the x-ray machine for the third time. It cleared but I did not. I was asked what was in the bottle. I told them plain water. I offered to drink it up. They said no. It had to be trashed, the senior officer said, indicating the big trash bin they had behind them. I pleaded and the kind, young officer holding my Nelgine bottle walked off with it to the toilet to empty it so that I could keep it. I thanked him and then we ran. Our gate was B98! That was like in Siberia, miles from where we emerged from the security clearance area.

We arrived panting at the gate only to be told that we were too late. The last bus ferrying the passengers to the plane had just left. We explained that it was chaotic at the customs and security areas. The uniformed officer looked at us and said, "That is not my problem is it?" I thought he was arrogant, rude and unhelpful, but held my tongue. "Can you help us please?" I asked ... actually it was more like begging. "You need to go upstairs to the Brussels Airlines counter and ask them to put you on the next flight." I pleaded some more but he just looked coldly at us and said, "The bus has gone. Others caught it but you did not. So, just go upstairs and get the next flight."

If looks could kill, I would have died instantaneously when I stole a glance at my travel mate. I waited for the "I told you so!" lecture, and when it came, I took it sheepishly as it really was my fault that we missed the flight. BUT, I thought, the personnel at the check-in counter could have been more helpful and sympathetic towards us.

The Brussels Airlines sales personnel was better but it remained that the next flight to Bristol was at 4pm, six and a half hours later! We were fortunate we were not required to pay for anything. We were not going to miss the next flight, so we made our way to Gate B98 and waited there. The place was empty except for us and we noted that the gates ran to B100. But no plane landed or took off during the time we were there.

There was no Internet services or free wi-fi, so I sat down to contemplate on how a small careless mistake had caused us to miss the flight. That in turn caused us to waste so much time. Also, as I was unable to contact my English friend who was waiting for us at Bristol airport, our absence would have cause her some worry and distress. She would have driven 40 miles (one way) and 80 miles (both ways) for nothing. We would have to find our way to her place, as it would not be practical to have her drive out again and the taxi to her home cost us 80 Stirling pounds. The cost of my careless mistake was heavy.

I sighed. The water in my bottle was not even meant for drinking! It was for washing my butt!!! I said a silent prayer to thank God for this lesson. I would in future be more careful, less stubborn and less assuming. I sat on the hard airport seat with an empty stomach and a bruised ego. Life was so full of meaningful and important lessons. We really need to take heed and learn before the consequences get heavier.

I prayed that the pilot of our next plane was nowhere close to being like me!

Nothing Too Small for God

I felt really bad and could not enjoy my sandwich lunch as I sat in the sun brooding. The group on our Czech Greenways Walk had disappeared into a nearby cafe to have their caffeine fix. We had walked across the border (now seamless, with no checks) from the Czech town of Cizov into the Austrian town of Hardegg (yes! correct spelling). A bridge took us across the river. The group gathered for a photo in the middle of the bridge - a significant spot as it marked the division of the two counties. All smiles as we moved off.

At the picnic spot, I realized that the tiny screw that would attach my little Cannon camera to its cloth pouch was missing. It must have dropped off as the camera was being attached to the tripod for the group photo. A few of us went back to the bridge and searched for it. We could not find it.

I pushed the last bit of the sandwich into mouth, took a sip of Coke, then headed back again to the bridge determined to find that camera screw. I kept my eyes on the wooden planks of the bridge and squatted down each time to closely examine the cracks that could hide a screw. Having walked the area where we took our photograph twice over, back and forth, I headed back to our picnic spot. I decided that I would have to try and buy a replacement when I got back to Singapore.

I sat looking at the rushing waters of the river below. Suddenly, I thought of the story of the pastor's daughter's lost monitor badge. When the 9 year old had informed her pastor father that she had lost her badge, he helped her look for it. When they could not find it, the pastor told his daughter that he would write a letter to her teacher explaining the loss and he would request for a replacement.

His daughter had looked up at her father and asked, "But, can't you ask God to help?". The pastor felt ashamed that he had not thought to pray for such a small matter. Immediately, he and his daughter prayed and asked for God's help. The next morning, the little girl was delighted when she spotted the badge by the back wheel tyre of their car. "Thank you God, thank you Daddy. God does care about the little things!", she whispered as she proudly pinned her badge back on.

I closed my eyes and asked God to help me find my camera screw. I thanked Him for the glorious day and told Him that I knew nothing was too small for Him.

As the group prepared to leave, I requested that we walked back across the bridge, CSI style, all abreast and eyes on the ground. We crossed the mid way point and as we walked on, my optimism waned. I thanked them all and said it was alright, that I would buy a replacement.

Suddenly, I heard a shout, "Is this it?" asked Amy as she walked towards us. There in her hand was the lost camera screw. I thanked God in amazement. How did that little screw end up at this end of the bridge? Why did Amy keep looking when we had all moved on?

I took the screw from Amy thanking her for persevering. She smiled. "Thank God", she said ever so gently.

"I did", I replied, humbled for I had wanted to be THE one to find the screw. But God used Amy instead.

I watched the Czech countryside whisk by as I sat in the van headed for our night stop. I smiled at the beauty around. God is so good. I keep learning more about Him and today, I learnt that nothing is too small for the Lord. Amen!

Crowded Streets ... Empty Pews

It is great to be back home! Nothing like your own bed to have a great night's sleep. I thank God that I was able to manage mysystem over the 6 weeks we were away in Eastern Europe, UK and walking the Greenways in the Czech Republic. It was indeed a learning journey for me. But more about that journey later.

Woon Yi and I spent the last 4 days of our "epic" 6-week holiday in Hallstatt, a small one-main-street village doted with restaurants and shops. The 923 residents have built their houses into the hill slopes and along the shores of Hallstatt lake which lies in the Salzkammergut region of Austria. Made popularby a Korean drama - Spring Waltz, it is also a UNESCO-WORLD Heritage Site with a 7000 year history of salt culture. Alexander Humboldt, a famous explorer described it as "the most beautiful lakeside resort in the world"!

Things may have changed over the years, especially the number of visitors literally

flooding the streets of Hallstatt, especially in the summer months. Many are day-trippers

with numerous tours schedulinga short stop-over for sight-seeing and souvenir shopping.

On our last Sunday morning there, we decided to attend service at the Protestant church in town.The only other church was a Catholic church up on the hill with a beautiful and interesting cemetery. We timed our breakfast and reached the church ten minutes before service time. The church was empty except for two men. One was practicing on the guitar and the other was slotting in the hymn page numbers we assume was to be sung that morning.

The church bell peeled on that dull, overcast Sunday morning, to announce the start of the service. People started to stream in. The main doors were closed (probably to prevent

interruptions to the proceedings by curious tourists) and the service began. The black ro

bed pastor walked to the altar and we recognized him as the "guitar playing" man. As it turned out, the pastor was a one-man operator. He led the service, accompanied the singing with his

guitar, saidar, said the prayers, climbed the steps to the pulpit to deliver the sermon and closed the service with prayers at the altar. He then moved to the church doors, threw them open and greeted his parish for the morning - all 13 of us!

We did not understand a word of German but managed to sing the hymns quite robustly, enjoying the tunes although the words held no meaning for us. We were after all, singing to the Lord and He would have understood what was in our hearts. And as the service continued, the sun shone through the grey clouds and through the beautiful, coloured windows of the church.

We contributed to their collection and shook the pastor's hand introducing ourselves as Methodist visitors from Singapore. "Ah, Singapore ... Methodist ..." he said, "and you could not understand anything?" We apologized that we could not understand German but told him that we were glad to have attended his service. He smiled, pleased we were sure. The church bells rang the end of the one hour service as we walked out into the glorious sunshine.

We then joined the throng of Hallstatt visitors on the streets. We felt sad for the pastor. We think that at least 4 of us were tourists. Was this his weekly attendance? Perhaps many attended the Catholic church up on the hill. Europe is after all predominantly Catholic.

Well, maybe we should be glad. Glad that 13 souls were worshipping the Lord that morning. Praise the Lord for His mercy and goodness. Maybe one day, there will be crowded pews and empty streets on Sunday mornings in the beautiful lakeside village of Hallstatt! Amen!

(Sorry about the alignment of the words. After I inserted the photos, things went wonky. I tried many times to rectify it but to no avail. I trust you will be able to figure things out. Too tired to try for the 10th time!!!)