Sometimes I Write

As I sauntered down the jetway to the plane, I tucked my phone into my laptop case meant for the overhead bin. I silently told God I was ready to love on anyone He wanted me to, but if it was to be a quiet flight, my Kindle was primed and ready.

I chose a window seat and waited for the popularity contest to begin. If you’ve flown before, you know it’s true.  Do I sit by the mom with the baby? Between the two big guys who will squish me between them? The loud, chatty lady on her cell phone? I’m very friendly, but I’m a big woman and assumed I wouldn’t be at the top of someone’s list of seatmates for a two hour flight.

The loud chatty lady on her cell phone sat down in the aisle seat of my row. When everyone was aboard, we thought we’d beaten the odds and would be able to stretch out a bit with the empty seat between us. Then a middle-eastern man asked to sit with us. I didn’t understand the language he was speaking into his phone, so I pulled out my Kindle.

My personal space is pretty small, but I was uncomfortably aware of the closeness with the stranger sitting next to me, so I was leaning into the window as we prepared for take-off. He looked at me and smiled, so I smiled back and began the polite conversation about where he was headed and how his time was spent in Oklahoma. I was worrying the whole time that I was taking up too much space.

The conversation flowed easily with him as we talked about life where he lives in San Francisco, sweltering Oklahoma summers, and the fires in Colorado. I told him that I’d been working at a church teen camp for 2 weeks and he stared at me for a minute. “So, you are Christian?” his accent was thick and I had to pay attention to the words so I wouldn’t have to ask him to repeat himself. “Yes, I am.”

Him – “Are you Baptist?”

Me – “No, I’m just a Christian.”

“How is your faith? You practice it? You believe in Heaven and Hell?”

“Yes, I don’t quite understand it all, but yes, I believe, and I think my faith is strong most of the time.”

“I was born Muslim. You know Muslim?”

“Sort of. Well, not really. I know that you believe in Allah and follow the prophet Mohammed. I believe in God and follow His son Jesus, whom you believe is also a prophet. Is that correct?”

“I believe in God and that he sent many prophets to reveal Himself, but there were 5 Major Prophets – Adam, Abraham, Moses, Mohammed, and Jesus.”

“May I ask you some questions?”

“You may ask me anything.”

We filled the next hour with conversation about faith and love and how they should be lived out. At some point I realized I was no longer leaning away, but we were leaning into each other, our heads bent together like old friends.

He told me of his move to the U.S. from Iran to go to university when he was a young man. He had always imagined America to be lush, green, and beautiful, so he was quite shocked when he landed in Oklahoma City. 😉 He does think America is beautiful, but it took him a few years of traveling to figure that out. He spoke of his family and how proud he was of his children. He told me of visits back to his homeland and how disgusted he was with all of the violence. He asked about my family and politely listened as I rambled on about Benny and the kids, and of course, SEVENS.

I asked questions about the Muslim religion, requirements, customs, and what he thought of Muslims and Christians not getting along and sometimes hating each other. A sad look appeared on his face and he replied, “It is a very sad thing that God’s children would hate at all. I want peace. I want peace for all man. Guns and war should not be. My wife teaches my children to pray to God for peace. We need to teach our children not to hate and fight, but to love.”

This man shattered my preconceived ideas about Muslims. I shook his hand to introduce myself.

“My name is Shahzad. It means, ‘Son of the King.’”

“My name is Nikalas. It means, ‘victory of the people.’ I’m a daughter of the Most High King.”

He smiled at me, “Yes, you are.”

We were a picture of contrast, both of us throwing out questions to the other about our faith, families, and how we see our world. Him, a fifty something year old Muslim business man, and me, an almost forty-year old writer/homeschooling mom, finding common ground to stand on. Both of us parents of 4 children, trying to love the people God puts in front of us, and wondering how God will use us in the future.

He reached over and touched my tattoo sleeve. “You have such beautiful skin. Why you do this? “ I laughed and began explaining why, and what it means.

“So you do this before you believed?”

“Um, no. I did this because I believed. It’s part of my story. part of who I am and what God has done in me.”

He frowned and shook his head a bit. “I think you are good, a beautiful woman, but I don’t understand.”

I smiled and patted his arm, “Thank you, and I’m okay with that.” We both chuckled as we relaxed into our seats to prepare for landing. I couldn’t believe 2 hours had flown by so quickly. As we stood in the aisle waiting to unboard the plane, he turned and shook my hand again.

“It was an honor to meet you, Shahzad.”

“You remembered my name! And your pronunciation is very good.” He smiled. “It was an honor to meet you, Nikalas. God bless you!”

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