My flight left Phoenix four hours late because Minneapolis/St. Paul had a big snow storm. Everyone scurried to find their seats and buckled down for the flight. Ten minutes later, the flight attendant got on the speaker and explained that it could be two to four hours before we took off. She gave us permission to leave the plane as long as we stayed close. I sat down at Starbucks and spent the next couple hours reading ESPN Magazine, HOW Magazine, and reading John Grisham’s newest book, “The Broker”. Soon it was time to hurry back on the plane and take off for Minneapolis.

I spent most of the four hour flight scribbling down ideas in the blank pages in my magazines. I spend so much time staring at glowing monitors, it was fresh and exciting to record my ideas like I did for most of my life. As I get older, my ideas get more bold and big. I’m always trying to sort out the details of my life: my goals at work, home, and personal projects. Ideas were spinning everywhere. It was wonderful!

My brainstorming became so overwhelming, I had to close my eyes and pray.; Ten minutes later, I’d open the magazine and find another page to scribble over. The ideas mapped out on those wrinkled pages give me so much hope and excitement.

After reviewing each page and trying to make plans to bring the ideas to life, one thing became painfully clear: I don’t have enough time. I have the talent and money to get things done, but at the end of the day, I never have enough time to get it all done. This day-to-day problem has continued for two years.

The only solution is to stop traveling as much on the weekends. I’ve known this was the solution two months ago, but I know it now more than ever. If I keep traveling at this pace, nothing in my life will change. On Monday I am going to talk to Kathleen and tell her that we need to slow down my schedule.

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Once we landed in Minneapolis, it was a mad dash to make my next flight.; I had not choice but to run hard and fast. If I missed this flight, I’d be spending the night at the airport, with no guarantee of flight the next day. I have a broken toe and I was wearing a pair of loafers. My backpack was heavy and I looked ridiculous, bouncing through the airport like a kindergärtner running to the school bus. But I pressed on. By the time I got to the gate, I almost ran into the ticket counter. I was like a bowling ball trying to stop in front of the pins. I was out of breath and couldn’t say anything. I gasped for air and then handed her my ticket. She waived me past.

I stepped out of the gate and onto the Jetway, infinitely grateful to have made the flight. The floor was covered with snow and the air was so cold it shocked my lungs. I mumbled a prayer and stepped onto the plane. Before I could take a seat, they had closed the plane. I had made it with only ten seconds to spare.

Getting the plane off the ground in Minneapolis was quite an ordeal. Even though it was nighttime, their was a cool glow coming fresh snow that covered the tarmac. The wind whipped walls of snow past my little window. In the distance, the flickering lights of rolling planes illuminated a cloud of snow, one second at a time. When set apart from the blanket of white, the airplanes looked so sleek and powerful. The whole scene was beautiful.

We pushed out of the gate to be de-iced. In the past, this has meant a quick squirt of liquid to the wings before we left the gate. But this time storm was particularly bad, forcing the plane for a full wash. The de-icing truck looks a lot like a telephone company truck, with a cherry-picker arm extending above the ground thirty feet. At the end of the arm was a small cockpit for a the man who controlled the hose. He looked so small and helpless up there, lifted so far off the ground, hosing down this mammoth plane beneath him. From inside the plane, it sounded like an huge automatic car wash.

Once our wash was done, we moved cautiously over the snow to the runway. We drove past dozens of bulldozers of all size, each scurrying to sweep up the thick layer of snow. Their front buckets were as big as my house.; They turned and zipped across the runway at amazing speeds, sending a rainbow of snow into the night air. They looked like a team of friendly giant robots.

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It’s after midnight now, and I am sitting up in bed. I’m staying in the basement of the rectory, on the hill above the church. There snow has covered the hills in the distance, giving them just enough light to pull them out of the darkness. It’s beautiful. Earlier tonight I saw three deer walk by the window.

I am in a town called Rockford, just outside of Grand Rapids, Michigan. When I looked at my travel schedule for this month, I didn’t realize that I had been at this church a year ago. Although I was only their for an afternoon on my last visit, I was charmed by their community spirit.;

It’s taken me over an hour to write this journal entry, and I think it’s time for bed. I am just happy to be under these warm covers and not curled up in the corner of the Minneapolis airport.