​Ruined Christmas Miracle

​As the jingle and jangle of Christmas bells and reindeer hooves permeated my sleep and roused me sweetly into wakefulness, the first thought that surfaced in my mind was 'Ahh … Christmas'.   
 
The second thought, which crashed rapidly a moment later was, 'Bloody hell, I'm going to miss my flight.'
 
The Christmas bells turned out to be the cacophonous racket of glass bottles cascading into the garbage truck out on the street. And a quick look at the clock confirmed both my first and second thoughts, it was Christmas Day and my flight home was scheduled to leave Sydney in 35 minutes.   
 
In an explosion of activity, two humans and two sausage dogs ricocheted around the house briefly before piling into the car in search of a Christmas miracle. 
 
There may never be a better time to drive to the airport in a hurry than at 5:30 am on Christmas morning. The roads were clear and the traffic lights green. Really not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. 
 
I hung suspended in my mind, held up by sharp hooks of anxiety and frustration and also floating on a faint breeze of hope and possibility. 
'I am so late that they are probably already calling my name.' 'And yet I'm checked in, have carry-on and I can run.' 'The airport is huge and will be busy.' 'All I need is like a 10 minute flight delay.' 'This is going to ruin Christmas.' 'It might be a Christmas Miracle.'
 
Caught in limbo between the archetypal extremes of a classic Christmas fable, I first drove to the airport, then kissed a girl, rubbed two peanut shaped dog heads goodbye and dashed into the terminal. 
 
The security check provided iconic stilted tension as I hopped from foot to foot unaided by the slightly jaded and sardonic security officer. 
"My flight leaves in literally 10 minutes." I appealed. 
"Yes, they are waiting for you. Get in line." He replied with well practiced detachment. 
 
The Christmas Day drama climaxed fittingly as the gap between ruining Christmas and a Christmas Miracle narrowed to encompass only a man running with unlaced shoes through a crowded terminal wing. 
 
It was the stuff of popular culture cliché, and I was living the moment in full colour as I clattered into the check-in podium at gate 56. 
 
"Christmas Miracle?" I gasped out between heavily drawn breaths. 
The slowly reversing plane I could see over the attendant's shoulder made her genuine response close to redundant.
"I'm sorry Sir."
"So you’re telling me I've ruined Christmas? For a minute there I thought it was going to be the other one." 
"It was close. Sorry.” she smiled. “The next flight is in four hours, they can book you on that upstairs."
"Thank you."
 
As I trudged back through the terminal, disappointment and residual adrenaline fluttered through my thoughts and feelings. Missing a flight is rough. Although surrounded by annoyance, guilt and settling shock was the faint glow of some other feelings. Glinting feelings that I was happy to sense and explore.  
 
Missing my flight home for Christmas had distorted the plans of my family, violently jolted and rearranged the day of my partner, and cost me time, money and emotional stability. It was a destructive event and not desirable. 
 
That is however not all. It was also a unique series of events, challenges and sensations that could not have existed otherwise. Moments of hope and thrill, chances to surge and pursue a worthy goal - saving Christmas - and the sensation of living a life imbued with awareness and experience. 
 
It was a journey of never before known sensations, and to me there is precious, fleeting and perspective enriching value to be found right there in the middle of a ruined Christmas Miracle. 
 
A difficult choice was available. I could inhabit the disappointment and frustration of the moment, or I could hone in on the unique, foreign and potentially valuable elements of the experience.
 
The former would carry negativity and abrasion into the interactions and events that would determine the nature of the remaining day. The later would be imbued with possibility and the eventual outcome of the day stood to be positively created in that open space.
 
The path to a ruined Christmas, and the alternative track to a Christmas Miracle were available before me. The task was to be aware enough to choose.
 
A short time later I walked through the terminal with a new ticket and a positive feeling tucked under my arm. The smiling face of Julie, my harried customer service agent, confirmed the importance of recognizing frustration, possibility and the opportunity before me, and then choosing for value.
 
The message to me stands clear, the task of life is to strive, experience and understand the moments of our world. Not just some parts of each moment, but all of the varied and valuable pieces. From that understanding there can be choice. In order to choose, we have to breath, experience and be in it.