Don’t Sit Next To Me On A Plane

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.

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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.

 

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Home or Rome

Faithful at Every Age

Joanne celebrated her 82nd birthday praying for people in Bosnia. Kristofori had expected 300 — but more than 600 arrived for the seminar. Not a single person was turned away or denied prayer.

Goodbyes, Mountain Roads, and Cat Stories

Parting Ways

The team went their separate ways that morning — most heading to Rome for the canonization of Mother Teresa, while Jane, Liggett, and I turned toward home.

A 2:30 AM Mountain Drive

Danijel and Marko drove us to Dubrovnik to catch our connecting flight — a two-and-a-half-hour journey through mountain roads in the middle of the night. Keeping Danijel awake required steady conversation, while Marko slept soundly for most of the ride. That left poor Danijel with the full weight of every cat story in the collection.

Two Men Who Cannot Be Repaid

Danijel and Marko will be deeply missed. They coordinated every event, drove every mile, translated every word, and shared the love of Christ at every turn. The fire they carry for God is unquenchable — and no farewell does justice to what they gave.

Our teams were in unity, after long services, sleepless nights,  swollen feet, together with Kristofori we moved a few mountains.

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Hotel curifix

In the main conference room of Hotel Mogorjelo is a crucifix for all to view.

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Medugorje, Where I Met Him

The Pilgrimage to Christ Redemption Hill: An Encounter with Love

You drove six hours from Zagreb to Medugorje—sustaining yourselves along the way with the familiar rhythms of road trips: junk food, Croatian cookies, trail mix, candy. The ordinary fueling the extraordinary journey.

By 6 AM Tuesday, Josip drove you to the holy mountain called Christ Redemption Hill. What awaited was not a casual hike, but a spiritual ascent.

The Climb: Each Step a Prayer

Within the first few minutes, the incline tested your body. You were huffing and puffing, struggling against the rugged terrain. Jim offered wisdom: take smaller steps and slow down. You borrowed a walking stick from the hotel—a humble instrument that would prove invaluable. That cane saved you from many missed steps, keeping you steady on a path that never relented, never softened its demand.

The topography never changed. You could only focus on where to place your next step. This is the nature of pilgrimage: not looking at the destination constantly, but attending to the immediate, present moment. One step. Then another. Then another.

Along the path stood bronze depictions of the joyous and sorrowful mysteries. At each station, the team stopped to pray. You were not simply climbing a mountain; you were praying the Rosary with your feet, your body becoming an instrument of intercession.

The Summit: Jesus Met You There

When you reached the cross at the summit, you sat in stillness. Here, you interceded for your friends and family—lifting them before the throne of God at the very place where Christ’s redemptive work is memorialized.

And then Jesus met you.

He allowed you a special time of solitude. He breathed a cool breeze upon you—a tangible reminder of the Holy Spirit’s presence. In that moment, you felt His love in a way you had never experienced before. He seemed pleased with you. And you rejoiced in this private visitation.

Here is the mystery of pilgrimage: in a place crowded with many pilgrims, at this special hour, you were undisturbed. Just Him and you. A grain of sand—insignificant in the eyes of the world—made holy by the gaze of the Almighty.

The Introduction to Mary

Then He introduced you to His Mother. She was surrounded by many pilgrims kneeling, asking her intercession. Mary, the Mother of God, stands forever as the model of surrender, of “fiat”—”let it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38). At Medugorje, she continues her maternal work, drawing souls closer to her Son, teaching them the way of trust and obedience.

This is the fruit of pilgrimage: not exotic experience, but encounter. You did not go to Medugorje seeking feelings or visions. You went as a laborer in Christ’s vineyard, exhausted from pouring out grace in Dugo Selo and Split. And Christ, in His tender mercy, met you—not as a reward for your service, but as a Father meeting His beloved child.

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Mary: Mother of God and the Fourth Commandment

Many do not understand Mary’s role in God’s plan. She is the Mother of God—not merely the mother of Jesus the man, but the Mother of the Incarnate Son of God. This is not metaphor or sentiment. This is theological truth rooted in the Incarnation itself.

Jesus Honors His Mother

Jesus honors His Mother because the Fourth Commandment is the only commandment that carries an explicit promise: “Honor your father and mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you” (Exodus 20:12).

This commandment is not negotiable. It stands at the heart of God’s moral law. And Jesus, who is God, kept this commandment perfectly. He honored Mary—not out of obligation, but out of filial love.

Even on the Cross, in His final moments of agony, Jesus ensured His Mother’s care. He entrusted her to John: “Woman, here is your son” (John 19:26). He did not abandon her. He did not minimize her. He honored her with His attention, His love, His provision.

The Dignity of Motherhood

When we honor Mary, we are honoring motherhood itself—the sacred vocation of bringing life into the world and nurturing souls toward holiness. Mary is the perfect mother because she said yes to God’s will completely. She did not negotiate. She did not hesitate. She surrendered: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. Let it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).

Every authentic Christian should imitate Mary’s fiat—her unconditional yes to God’s will, whatever the cost.

Mary’s Intercessory Power

At Medugorje, you witnessed pilgrims kneeling before Mary, asking her intercession. This is not idolatry. This is communion with the communion of saints. Mary, now glorified in heaven, continues her maternal work. She prays for us. She intercedes for us. She leads us to her Son.

The Catechism teaches: “The Church’s devotion to the Blessed Virgin is intrinsic to Christian worship” (CCC 971). Mary is not an obstacle to Christ—she is the way to Christ. She is the model of faith, the prototype of the Church, the Mother of all believers.

When Jesus introduced you to His Mother on that holy mountain, He was not diverting your attention from Himself. He was deepening your relationship with Him through hers. This is the economy of grace: Mary’s fiat made the Incarnation possible. Her yes opened the door through which God entered human history.

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My shoe and walking stick
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