I Love the Word Impossible. Ann Kiemel

strong man to wrap me in his arms, to

      laugh with me in love and belonging, shedding

      my sophistication.

      no one to hear whether i felt encouraged or

      disappointed about people’s receptiveness to

      me and my dreams.

      no child to scoop up and squeeze and call

      my own.

      it’s amusing. a lot of people think my world is

      glamorous. airplanes and hotels and faraway

      cities.

      there are many special things i love and cherish…

      and there are long layovers in

      enormous airports

      and cold hotel rooms on winter nights

      and crowds to stumble through,

      down endlessly long corridors,

      as i try to get to a gate to catch a plane,

      dash and still miss it.

      and people who scrutinize me with a frown when

      i bound in the door of the auditorium,

      and days when i am feeling so tired and so

      unattractive

      and i still have to smile and cover my

      insecurities and weariness in front of several

      hundred… instead of going home

      and hiding.

      it had been a successful convention, and i was

      seated on a TWA jet in st. louis, returning home.

      yummmmmmmm.

      just as we started to pull away from the gate,

      engines stopped, and a stewardess said,

      “evacuate immediately. this is an emergency.

      leave everything in your seats.”

      and we did…

      for five hours. we were kept in an area of the airport

      while they thoroughly investigated a bomb

      threat.

      i felt drained and exhausted from a lot of speaking,

      and devastated that i couldn’t be on my way home.

      when we finally reboarded, i turned to the man

      next to me.

      “how are you feeling?”

      “lousy… yep, really lousy.”

      “me, too. you know, i could smack whoever

      gave that bomb threat. sir, i’m a Christian.

      Jesus is Lord of my life, but i’m not a ‘miss pollyanna’

      in an experience like this. sir,

      you know what i really love about Jesus?

      i think He knows just how we feel.”

      the man threw his head back and roared with

      laughter.

      “you’re the first Christian i ever met who

      makes it sound real and exciting…”

      another day i arrived in a sunny, warm southern

      city to speak. i wondered, as i deboarded, who

      would be there to meet me. usually, i never know

      the people, and they identify me. that day, no one

      did.

      it was exactly thirty minutes before i was to be at a

      certain hotel to address a banquet. the flight was

      long, and i needed to change and freshen up. i

      wandered around the terminal area awhile, hoping

      someone would claim me. i saw an older couple

      stare a lot in my direction. they seemed like

      possible candidates… very conservative in their

      appearance, and it was a church conference. they

      walked back and forth as i leaned against a counter

      finally, i had the air lines page,

      “party meeting ann kiemel… please

      come to united’s information desk…”

      this couple did… only five feet away… just watching

      me. i smiled shyly, hoping they would respond.

      then i became paranoid.

      “what is it they don’t like about me? my dress

      is long. it has sleeves, the neckline is high, and i’m

      not gaudied up in jewelry. i’ve got sandals on,

      but…”

      suddenly the man, with wrinkled frown, called out,

      “do you know ann kiemel?”

      i spilled into smiles… “it’s me! i’m ann.”

      they didn’t smile. nor offer to carry my bag. they

      walked ahead of me in silence, and led me to their

      car parked at the far end of the airport. they

      crawled in the front seat and closed their doors,

      and i sheepishly got in back. nothing was said as we

      drove to the hotel. the man again parked far from

      the entrance, and neither helped me crawl out or

      offered to carry my things. when we got inside,

      they pressed the elevator button for the banquet

      room, and i became frantic…

      “sir, my room! i must change…”

      he shrugged his shoulders, so i marched to the desk

      and registered myself. and when i turned to go my

      eyes caught the wife with another woman, shaking

      her head in negative dismay.

      when i got to my room, i fell across the bed

      and sobbed.

      “Jesus, i can’t go down there to that banquet.

      they don’t like me. i won’t fit in. i’m going to

      be rejected without even being heard. i’m so

      scared…”

      for a few minutes, i forgot time. i didn’t care. i

      could only wail. then i pulled myself up, washed

      my face, changed clothes and walked out with a

      straight back, my head high, and my eyes very red.

      someone there had faith enough to call me to do

      this, and God would help me. i walked into the

      large banquet room, and was instantly greeted by

      warm, charming people with strong handshakes

      and wide smiles. i couldn’t even find the couple

      who picked me up…

      until afterward.

      after i had spoken, and God had powerfully

      graced the evening,