The Cookies of Humility

April 26th, 2024

Today, in Cincinnati, Ohio, I had another funny “airport check-in episode.”

I arrived early but, for some reason, when it was my turn, the check-in counter ran into a problem: my passport would not register on their system. No matter how many times they scanned it, it just wouldn’t register.

To make matters worse, there was only one staff member on duty, which meant that a long line of 10-15 people started to build up behind me in a bottleneck, increasing the pressure. I felt more and more frustrated and grumpy the longer I had to wait: They must think I’m an idiot: that I’ve come to the airport without a valid passport or visa.

About 45 minutes in, I could not help but vent to the poor man, “Why is this happening? I’ve flown with Air Canada more times than I can count. I’m a registered frequent flyer. I know for a fact that I submitted my visa confirmation — so surely the system should have my information on file?!”

Despite my audible frustration, and despite the fact that it was the computer’s fault, not his, the steward (whose name I later discovered was Moayyad) looked up at me with gentle eyes and replied, “OK, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to keep the head office on the line to get this sorted out for you, and I’m going to check in the other passengers behind you at the same time. Don’t worry, I’ll keep the conversation live on my earpiece until everything is fixed.” Each time someone came up to the counter, Moayyad patiently explained the situation, so they understood he might need to pause now and then to talk to the support staff. He was so calm, and I couldn’t help but feel touched by how diligently he was helping me while juggling the other passengers.

Coming up to 60 minutes in, my thoughts finally shifted away from my problem, and towards gratitude for this person working hard in difficult circumstances. His positivity and perseverance were inspiring: “Maybe I can bless him somehow? He’s just been so helpful. Oh, I know what I can do…”

I had some very special coffee cookies that I had brought all the way from Hong Kong; they were safely locked in my suitcase. Perhaps I could give him a few as a small thank you, and grab a couple for myself, to snack on while I waited? I bent down to unlock my bag, and realized that I could also kneel, pray, and thank the Lord for Moayyad without looking too weird: three birds with one stone!

This triggered another memory: of the time I needed a last-minute visa to Canada, and God asked me to humble myself by kneeling to pray in front of all the other passengers (in the chapter titled I Am a Pray-er, Not a Terrorist in the Butterfly Effect). Of course, I had been talking to God while I was standing to the side of the counter, but the issue never felt dramatic enough to kneel. Now that I thought about it, though, the sentiment was similar: replacing control with surrender, and consternation with cookies.

As I pulled my precious cargo out, I asked God to bless Moayyad, and I repented for my impatience. I closed my suitcase and then, exactly as I stood up, Moayyad called to me with a warm smile, “I’ve talked with support and they’ve got everything fixed now. You’re cleared for check-in. Have a great flight!”

Yet another instant answer to prayer after a serving of humble pie. (Or should I say humble cookie?) God has a delicious sense of humor. I passed the treats to Moayyad, said a big thank you, and turned to make my way through security.

---

I reached my gate with 40 minutes to spare, and I got another “cherry on top”: Moayyad was in charge of boarding. We were happy to see one another again under positive circumstances, and I made sure to catch his full name this time.

The instant I made this request, his demeanor shifted: his face dropped and his body stiffened. He pointed hesitantly towards his name tag, which read, “Moayyad Bazbaz.”

Why the sudden change? I tried to reassure him, “Is everything OK? I just wanted to get your name so I could tell Air Canada that you did a great job today, and to ask that they support front-line staff like you by assigning at least one other person at the check-in counter. I think that would be much less stressful for the other passengers and for you!”

Relieved, his smile returned. “You know, madam, I thought you wanted to issue a complaint. We actually get quite a few of those. Just this last flight, there was a customer who was unhappy and filed a report. I think they were just having a bad day. So I’m glad to hear you’re not going to do that. I hope you have a great flight.” I thanked him once more and headed down the boarding ramp.

It was crazy to think that someone could file a complaint against Moayyad; he seemed like such a professional, hardworking gentleman. Then again, with tempers flaring in the heat of the moment, it would be easy to pin the blame on “the messenger," even if they’ve done nothing wrong. I thought back to the tone of voice I used when asking Moayyad why everything was taking so long and could see why he might have been worried.

It had taken me noticing how kind and courteous he had been for me to stop focusing on my problem, and to choose gratitude. And maybe that was God’s required learning from this airport episode: the Lord didn’t just intend to answer my individual cry for help, but He wanted me to see and love the person in front of me, too: to be a blessing no matter what was happening. I arrived at my seat, put my bags away, and pulled the remaining cookies out of my jacket pocket. Crunch. Mmm, these really were good cookies. Thanksgiving tastes better than complaining any day.

Colossians 3:12 — “Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness and patience."