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Yesterday proved to be a little bit busy. I worked with someone in the morning on some math--though, I'm not sure how much help I was. College seems foggy, far away, and long ago. Hopefully, things will come back. Anyway, I received a call during that time that I needed to find a sitter for Matthew for about 30 minutes to watch him and put him on the bus, because I needed to leave much sooner to the airport than expected. Also, I found out I would have to go inside the airport and meet my dad at the gate, because his connection was too close.

After numerous phone calls, I found a last minute sitter--our sweet neighbor. Matthew hung out there until his bus came, and Ethan and I jetted to the airport. Of course, I realized about half-way there that I forgot a stroller or the Snuggly.

I found my way to the parking garage and began making my way to the Delta counter for a gate pass. Because my dad's a pilot, I have traveled quite a bit. Long ago, and I'm thinking about 2001 or 2002, I went through security and had the opportunity to be frisked by one of the agents. Since that time, I have traveled MANY times. Yesterday, as I was in a HUGE hurry to get to my dad, of course, they need to body search me. I finish being violated, and discover that my bag has not yet come through. Why? That's when I hear, "I need a manager over here." I turn quickly and watch as my bag is the one to be searched.

What can possibly be in there? David has been in Colorado; there's no way a cutting knife or something of the sort could have been manipulated in by little fingers. I begin searching my thoughts for answers. That's when the checking agent says, "Ms.," holding up my diaper rash cream. Seriously??? Luckily, he was really nice. He saw that I was coming right out and not boarding a flight, so I did not have to throw away the cream.

Anyway, David was not too happy about having to leave his "Frandpa." I guess he assumed they were just flying for fun for the afternoon. At any rate, we talked to my dad for a few minutes and began the decent back to the car. Geographically, Houston is FLAT. I say "decent," because that's the way the rest of the airport went. David screamed all the way to baggage and all the way to the car. I juggled the baby, the diaper bag, David's backpack and carry-on bag, plus the loaded duffle bag. I'm sure it was a sight to see, but nonetheless, we persevered.

Just as we entered the elevator, this woman and her traveling companion approached us. They asked us if they could carry our stuff and escort us to our vehicle. My lip almost started quivering. Immediately, I thought back to this morning's prayers. This was a direct answer, a tender mercy of the Lord. These women said they had seen me and tried to catch up, but to no avail.

The doors began to close, and just at that moment, the mission president, his wife, and the missionaries appeared outside of the elevator. When we got to our level in the parking garage, they walked out of the adjacent doors. The women walked us to our car--though, they were not even on the same level. Then, they gave David a dollar and told him if he behaved, maybe he could get a candy bar. They didn't have to do any of that. They could have just helped me to the elevator and that would have made them the "Good Samaritan." Talking to me would have been supportive, but again, they did more. These women nurtured me, whether they realized it or not. They went above and beyond. I was reminded about the goodness of people that is out there. And I was reminded that Heavenly Father is aware of our needs.

In addition to that, the mission president and his wife, along with the missionaries came rushing over to where we were (They just happened to be parked one car down on the other side of the street in the garage.). The mission president's wife asked if she could hold Ethan. She, then, held him while I buckled David up and calmed him down (Yes, he was still screaming at the top of his lungs at this point.). How could she have known that seeing someone who understood would be so calming to my heart? By understanding, I mean someone who understood my testimony of motherhood and my calling and why it is so important that I stay home with my children. There was no judgment passed. So much was exchanged and felt in the brief interactive moment. How could she have known that seeing someone who shared my faith would uplift me so much when I was feeling so overwhelmed? How could she know that she was directly answering my prayers? I received so many tender mercies yesterday. It was a wonderful day.