Airport Parking Lot

If you leave your car in the Atlanta Park and Ride park­ing lot, you need to learn the rou­tine for get­ting back to your car. They give you either a blue or pink slip of paper with your lot num­ber, sec­tion and row scrib­bled on it. The park­ing lot is mas­sive. The ride to and from the ter­mi­nal is bumpy, but the dri­vers are friendly and talk­a­tive. Never lose that lit­tle piece of paper. If you do, you will wan­der in the park­ing lot for the rest of your life look­ing for your car.

Upon return­ing from Texas the other night, I was tired — as we all were on that shut­tle. They called my sec­tion and row first. What you are sup­posed to do next is tell the dri­ver the kind of car you have, so he or she can stop near it. For what­ever rea­son, I called out, “Blue Maserati” (a nice lit­tle sports car that can cost upwards of a half mil­lion dol­lars — depend­ing on its style, age, engine, etc., and can be spelled with an s or z in the mid­dle of the name).

Sud­denly, every tired per­son (and the dri­ver of the shut­tle) came to life. The forty-ish look­ing lady sit­ting across from me sud­denly focused on me and it looked like she was about to reach for her pen (to either get my name or the license num­ber on the Maserati). I then smiled and said, “Gray Ford Focus.” Every­one laughed. We all went through the range of “What if we had won the lot­tery?” set of emo­tions. If you had a Maserati, you would not leave it in the Atlanta Air­port Park­ing Lot…a Ford Focus yes, a Maserati, no.

As I was grab­bing my one lit­tle black car­ryon bag and leav­ing the shut­tle, I turned to the small group and said, “My imag­i­na­tion is about all I have left.” It struck a mixed chord of feel­ings, and I was sur­prised I said that. The state­ment came from nowhere, but maybe it was because I had just returned from vis­it­ing my dad in his final days. I pon­dered that state­ment as I drove home.

If all you have left in life is your imag­i­na­tion, you are young, healthy, and rich for­ever. You have the “Pearl of Great Price.” You are blessed by some­thing more than a lot­tery win and a Maserati — for imag­i­na­tion and a spirit of play keynotes the joys of the life of Faith — both now and forever.

Amen!