Pain at Terminal Three

It's 4:15 a.m. Saturday Jan. 9th... the alarm clock has been shut off before it even has a chance to ring. Laying in bed wide awake for awhile already, my mind is replaying the wonderful memories we as a Klassen family have made as our daughter Bonnie, has come home from Bogota' Colombia for a few weeks over Christmas. The joy of having our whole family together after 1 years of Bonnie's absence, has been a special gift from God.

Hearing about all the activities that have filled her time as a missionary in a country riddled by daily violence makes us treasure her time here at home all the more. For these brief days we don't want to focus on the fact that her term of service there is only half over... her alluding to possibly staying in Colombia longer than that, strikes no jubilant cords in our hearts (if we are honest).

This is the day... the time has come to face the music - its "D" day (departure day). Gazing through the blinds into the darkness of the early morning, I can see that driving to Pearson International Airport is not going to be any picnic either.

Loading two totally crammed full suitcases and a carry-on into the car is a further reminder that a good-bye is just around the corner. Waiting in the car while mother and daughter share a very few precious moments of tearful farewells at the front door of the house. I'm praying for a safe trip to Toronto in this winter infested part of the world, and a safe trip to South America for our dear daughter. Bonnie's excitement at the thought of getting back to her assignments and seeing all her Spanish speaking friends rips away at my heart, yet I also tell myself that it feels good to see her happy in her pilgrimage far from this home.

Intermittent glimpses of the road markings on the slush and snow blanketed MC #401, with vision blurred by heavy truck traffic spraying slush, and moderate snowfall, is commanding my full attention as we drive. I want to take frequent glances at my soon to be gone "princess", but driving safely has taken this pleasure away. We are not driving that fast, yet by 5:45 a.m. our trip has ended at Pearson's Terminal Three. My strong words of encouragement, and gentle words of fatherly advice during our brief trip to the airport seem so inadequate at a time like this.

This is it! I can feel strong emotions of love and pain churning away as we stand just inside the automatic sliding doors of the terminal. Here we are, just the two of us. The pain of saying good-bye for such a long time is real. It hurts deep inside, even though I know in my mind that she is God's gift to us and I want to give her back to God in His service.

Amid a very long farewell hug, which I still remember in my mind, comes this emotion charged gentle voice, "I just want you to know one thing. I'm so very glad that you are my dad. I love you!!" No amount of will power can stop the flood of tears and it feels right. I want to see her clearly one more time before she turns to leave. Tears are blurring my vision. Oh God, this is hard stuff!

We each turn to go our own ways. My coat sleeves are a very poor blotter for my tear stained cheeks. As I drive away with a heavy heart, Bonnie's final words to me are very real - like a special encouragement - and during the next few moments God ministers to my soul as the thought hits me. I remember whimpering out in a feeble voice, "And Heavenly Father I'm so glad that you're my dad. Please take care of Bonnie because I just can't do it by myself". A very real sense of peace enveloped my soul. It was a most precious experience.

Approximately 11:30 that night a tired but happy voice on the phone all the way from Bogota' announced that God's presence this morning was more than just a cosy feeling. God's grace ha prevailed. God was on the job. Praise the Lord!

John Klassen