Worth revisiting — this story first took place in May 2004.

Fourteen Hours and a Divine Appointment

The Best-Laid Plans

Fourteen hours is a long time to be on a plane. The plan was to ask for an aisle seat at check-in, but the luggage was too heavy — at least on the way there. In a frantic rush to shift some things into a team member’s suitcase, the request slipped away entirely. As usual, the middle seat it was.

Neighbors by Design

To the left was Quinn, a young man traveling to Ukraine. To the right was a friendly man from Latvia whose name was never quite caught. Both strangers. Neither a coincidence.

A Missionary in the Middle Seat

After introducing myself as a missionary, Quinn introduced himself as an agnostic. The response came naturally: “Oh, you should not sit next to me.” Witnessing is second nature, and that day was no different. Quinn was gracious and polite as stories and photos from past missionary trips were shared. He was on his way to visit an orphanage and teach the children to play the ukulele — which led to only one honest response: “You are already doing God’s work — you just don’t realize it yet.” What a wonderful young man with a beautiful heart.

Dream Water and Tired Eyes

Eventually, fatigue won out. Quinn purchased something called Dream Water — described simply as the opposite of Red Bull — and drifted off to sleep.

Placebos, Greyhound Disasters, and a Green Shirt in Istanbul

Dream Water and a Gracious Skeptic

It fell to me to gently break the news that Dream Water was perhaps a placebo — Quinn agreed, but drank it anyway. Some battles are worth conceding. Quinn and I are now Facebook friends, and he continues to be used by God in a loving outreach to those young orphans.

The Greyhound Disaster

The gentleman to the right was doing his best, in broken English, to describe what can only be called a catastrophe. His dream vacation across America on a Greyhound bus had gone so badly that he was forced to rent a car halfway through the trip. The bus, he explained, was dirty, old, and not fit for any traveler. It was news to me that Greyhound even offered excursion packages to international visitors — let alone those coming all the way from Latvia.

Grand Canyons and Good Sense

He was deeply disappointed, and for a brief moment, the thought came to write a letter of complaint to Greyhound felt like the right move — before coming to good senses. A gentle suggestion was offered instead: most people drive to see the Grand Canyon. He received that quietly, with the look of a man who had already learned that lesson the hard way.

A Green Shirt in Istanbul

On the return trip, a short layover in Istanbul offered one more unexpected moment. Among millions of people passing through one of the world’s busiest crossroads, one young man stood out — wearing a green shirt, and without arms.

The Row That Was Never Mine

A Smirky Smile and a Settled Heart

This time, the aisle seat request was granted. The doors to the Boeing 777 were locked, and a smirky smile was exchanged with a friend named Jane. The whole row — empty. For one brief, glorious moment, it seemed like the flight home would be peaceful.

They Will Sit Here

Just as comfort set in, the young man in the green shirt arrived — the same one spotted among millions in the Istanbul terminal — accompanied by a companion. “We will sit here,” they said. The only honest response was a smile and the truth: “Okay, but you just ruined my trip home.” They laughed, sat down, and what followed was one of the best conversations of the journey.

A Refugee, a Reunion, and a Hug With the Eyes

The young man without arms is a refugee from Afghanistan, being escorted by a United Nations representative to Oregon. The moment he sat down, something passed between us that needed no words — a hug with the eyes. He was warm, friendly, and full of light.

Born That Way

Curiosity led to a gentle question: had he lost his arms in the war? He smiled and said he was born that way. Even his UN companion had not known — and was quietly surprised to find out.

The Aisle Seat, the Big Toe, and a Prodigal Son

A Reasonable Hesitation

When the food cart began making its way down the aisle, the UN representative kindly asked if the window seat could be taken instead. The hesitation was real — no, no, staying put felt right — but then he mentioned there was an aisle seat just a few rows back. A glance revealed a very handsome man sitting next to his equally beautiful girlfriend. The first instinct? “That guy is too big — that is not going to work for me.”

The Big Toe That Changed Everything

Then it hit like a ton of bricks. This young man eats with his feet. The concern was not elbows — it was knees. One glance confirmed it: his big toe was already navigating the monitor with ease. The decision was immediate. “I will move back.” Everyone was happy.

Joe, His Girlfriend, and an Old Wound

The next seat brought Joe and his girlfriend. After settling in and explaining the situation, the conversation opened naturally — and the witnessing began. The story of an encounter with a demon-possessed girl came up, and that got their attention immediately.

Daily Mass Parents and a Prodigal Heart

Joe shared that his parents were devout Catholics who attended daily Mass. He, however, was angry at the Church and stated plainly that he would never return. The response was equally plain: his parents are praying for him, and God answers the prayers of faithful parents. He and his girlfriend were gracious throughout — though there is a fair chance the conversation eventually put them both to sleep.

Every Seed Has a Season

The Harvest Belongs to God

Every person encountered on that journey received a seed. That much is certain. The planting was the assignment — the harvest belongs to God.

The Seeds Sown

To Quinn — a seed of servanthood for God.

To the young man without arms — a seed of welcome to America.

To his UN companion — a seed of love.

To Joe and his girlfriend — a seed that was already planted and simply needed watering.

The Fourth of July Celebration

Another providential moment — while in Santa Barbara, our son Mikos reconnected with his friend Mark. The two met in middle school and have maintained a wonderful friendship ever since.

Mark’s entire family had come to town from Colorado to celebrate Sheryl’s 80th birthday. Aside from Christmas cards, there had been no contact with Sheryl in over 20 years. When the boys were younger, our families had formed a real friendship. When they entered high school, word reached us that our sons were attending parties where alcohol was being served. This did not sit well, and together Sheryl and I formed MAP (Mothers Against Parties)..

MAP

When our son Mikos was a sophomore at Villa Park High School, Sheryl  and I founded a grassroots organization called MAP — Mothers Against Parties. It was not a popular cause. Several of us had become aware that our sons were being exposed to alcohol at local gatherings, and we felt compelled to alert other parents about parties where alcohol was being served to minors.

The Election

Sheryl and I spearheaded the effort. When she was unable to attend the first meeting, a nomination was made on her behalf for president, with the vice-president role falling to me. Together, we designed flyers and coordinated subsequent meetings. Word spread quickly throughout the high school, and before long, Mikos and Mark  — were bombarded with questions about MAP.

The Meetings

We met with several interested parents, but skepticism ran high, and the few meetings we held were largely unsuccessful. The goal was to build a network of parents — one that could quickly alert families the moment word of a party surfaced. What made this especially alarming was that many of these gatherings were being hosted by parents who knowingly served alcohol to minors. Some were even charging admission. The sheer irresponsibility of it was staggering. This was not something to stand by and accept. Little did anyone know that Mikos was already well on his way to becoming a party animal himself.

The Decoy

Mikos was 15, which made me the designated driver. One evening, he and his friend Carter — who was like a second son — needed a ride to a friend’s house. After dropping them off, while looping around the cul-de-sac, a party was clearly visible at the end of the street. Mikos and Carter were still standing in the front yard as the car rolled past. The window came down: “Don’t even think about going to that party!” Surely a son would respect that — after all, his mother was the VP of MAP.

Sonja was in the back seat, and she never missed an opportunity to rat out her older brother. “You know they’re going to that party,” she said matter-of-factly. And she was right. Not only did Mikos and Carter go — the house where they had been dropped off belonged to a complete stranger. That is why they were still standing in the front yard when the car passed by. It had been a decoy all along.

Not long after, MAP quietly dissolved for lack of interest. Mikos and Mark had become the talk of Villa Park High School — and the whole episode only added to their legend, along with a flood of new party invitations.

The Mikosmobile

When Mikos turned 16, a car entered the picture — a red Jetta with personalized license plates that read “Mikos,” affectionately known as the Mikosmobile. Not even two weeks later, he and Carter were pulled over on the 91 Freeway by a California Highway Patrol officer. It was Mikos’s first speeding ticket. He sat on that information until just a few days before his court date.

The Traffic Ticket

On the morning of the hearing, Mikos and I stood together in line at the courthouse. When asked to see the ticket, he hesitated — then handed it over. The number on the citation said it all: 90 miles per hour. Every instinct in my being I wanted to scream, what the hell were you thinking but I held my tongue. Before we went in, Mikos was told to take out his license and slip it into his shirt pocket — because the judge was going to ask for it.

The Judgement

The judge offered two options: guilty or not guilty. Mikos answered not guilty. The judge looked up and said, “Young man, I commend you for your response — but hand over your license.” It was a moment of pure poetic justice. Everything endured with MAP had led to this.

Of course, the suspended license meant one thing: the taxi was back in service.

Looking back, everything endured through those teenage years played a part in shaping the faith that anchors life today — and family therapy deserves its share of the credit too. Mikos followed in more ways than one. He is now the VP of Sales for a major organization.

Since this was written, Mikos has been promoted to General Manager.

 Proverbs 29:17 Discipline your son, and he will give you rest; he will give delight to your heart.

My Prayer

Dear Lord, thank You that we made it through these teenage years. Thank You for all the special graces You have bestowed on Mark and Mikos. May they forever be grateful for their upbringing, and may they seek You for guidance. Thank You for the beautiful reunion with Sheryl’s family. Amen.