Turbulence

If you’ve ever been on an airplane, you’ve likely heard the announcement from the loudspeaker, followed by the pilot, citing upcoming turbulance.

“Attention passengers, the seat belt light is now on…”

Whenever I heard this message, there’s a part of me that gets excited, because I know turbulence can have one of two outcomes, and one of them returns me to the ground safely with a roller-coaster of an adventure before touching down. The other? Well, it’s crashing to the ground in a ball of flames.

It isn’t that I’ve made peace with my life and have a readiness to go. I don’t. Rather, I’ve learned that sometimes it’s more fun to strap yourself down for the bumps in the road and hang on for dear life, just as you do when riding a roller coaster at an amusement park; something people pay copious amounts of money to do these days.

This week, I got blindsided by a near-knockout combination of punches from client situations. Hell, this year seems to be a steady salvo of left hooks that I didn’t see coming. However, in spite of all of it, I’ve felt a tremendous sense of peace during the fire drills that have arisen – paired with the occasional flights of turbulance and unrest.

A few months ago, I was reflecting on the way that I interact with Atlas. Something came to mind that caught my attention; a reminder that what I’m experiencing on the inside shouldn’t impact the quality of care that I provide him as a parent. In stressful times, I’ve learned to mentally divorce the external circumstances to my present moment with him, as much as possible.

Last year, I had a new client relationship that seemed like it was off to a rocky start; untimely communication, countless no-replies to my emails/calls, and being tasked with working in tandem with a junior-level group of marketers that were engaged through a very well-paid agency that hires low-level talent to drum up endless audits, reports and task-lists that have very little to do with actual marketing performance for the paying client.

Every week, I had to join a panel of six heads on a screen and bite my tongue as the recent college graduates attempted to convey an inflated sense of expertise and professionalism that fell flat. I’d walk away from each meeting thinking “I wish I never had to do this again.”

Weeks later, the client abruptly ended my contract. When I got the email, I looked up at my phone and saw Atlas’ smiling face, wanting to play.

Immediately, I remembered a verse from the Bible that hit me like a bullet:

“In everything, give thanks.”

In most instances, I would have been tempted to feel the stress and anxiety of losing a mid-sized contract. However, I looked at Atlas and told him something I’ll never forget:

“Atlas, Daddy just got some difficult news. Let’s pray.”

On the spot, he grabbed my hands and I gave God thanks for having the now-lost opportunity, as well as giving thanks for the wonderful life, opportunities and time together that he and I share. It felt like a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders as soon as I said “Amen.”

Less than a week later, I got another contract that was nearly double the one I had lost, with substantially less mental ‘burden’ and more opportunities to work with seasoned professionals in the field.

This week, I found myself in the middle of a storm with a client that seemed like it wouldn’t pass. However, I dilligently toed the line and worked with their team to resolve the issues they were dealing with, which everybody on the team carried with a great measure of stress, including myself. Hours of conference calls, debugging and incident response measures were carried out, and I eventually tracked down the root cause of the issue, as well as the solution required to fix it.

Throughout all of it, I couldn’t (can’t) help but wonder if this scenario would warrant the client cancelling my contract with them; something I’ve maintained for nearly five years. With this question  [still] heavy on my mind, I’ve done my best to put each foot in front of the other.

In life, you hope that everything will go according to ‘plan’, while fearing things will dereail in a ball of fire. However, I’ve learned that even when things go a different direction, God always makes a way for his kids – and I’m one of them, as are you.

As I write this blog, there’s a lot that’s up in the air for me. However, if I’ve learned anything from the countless airplane rides I’ve taken, it’s to hold on and trust that the Pilot is in charge.

A few weeks ago, Atlas and I went for a ride in an airplane. Not only did Atlas take the plane off from the runway, he piloted the aircraft for a majority of the flight while the pilot provided him with instructions through his headset.

Void of a headset myself, I couldn’t hear the instructions of the pilot – including when he prompted Atlas to bring the plane to a stall.

As the stall alarm went off, my mind went in a million directions. However, there was one thing that brought me back to reality and calmed the pit in my stomach; the pilot could take control at any moment and he also had a big smile on his face.

“Great job, little guy!” he said. “It’s important that you learn how to do that. I train all my pilots on what a stall feels like, and how to correct them.”

A few minutes later, the pilot told Atlas something through the headset while putting a quarter on the back of his hand. Suddently, the plane took a sharp dive and I watched as the quarter floated above his hand.

“Wasn’t that cool?” he asked Atlas, who excitedly nodded with enthusiasm. “Let’s do it again!”

This time, I was prepared for what happened next and braced myself for the stomach-turning drop in altitude, while holding a little boy who was laughing and having the time of his life in a flying roller coaster.

Sometimes life doesn’t give us a headset to hear the pilot communication. However, the Pilot is always in control and able to take over if things take a dangerous turn. As the weekend is finally here, I’m thankful that I was able to recall such a great example of what to do when your stomach does a somersault.

As my great-grandfather used to say:

“Cor, my boy…when you begin to feel a knot in your stomach, that’s when you know the odds are just right.”