A Charlie Brown Life

I sympathize greatly with Charlie Brown. A thousand Lucy’s seem always poised to snatch away the ball they promised to hold while I take my best swing at it. If there is something to learn from living the Charlie Brown life, it might be that you just as well embrace it with joy if you have to live it.

On one leg of my recent flight to South Asia from the States, I found myself seated in the last row of the particular section of the plane I was on. Which did have the advantage of being situated where there wasn’t a row to my left and no one seated behind me. So, a little bit of personal space was mine to enjoy.

By the time the food service started, I was feeling hungry. I hadn’t eaten anything all day. My plan to catch breakfast at the airport was derailed by a change in the flight plan, and for the same reason, I was unable to eat any lunch. The flight attendant had given me a menu just before takeoff. It had three options listed.

1.       Lamb Biryani with roasted almonds and raisins.

2.       Chicken Biryani with steamed rice.

3.       Vegetarian (and I don’t recall the details because…well, I like meat)

As the cart worked its way down the aisle, I was growing in anticipation of some decent food. The roasted almonds and raisins sold me on the idea of the lamb. Being in the last row meant I was in the last row to be served. When the flight attendant looked at the gentleman seated to my right and asked what he wanted he said, “Lamb.” He was gently passed a tray with an assortment of small food containers, the middle one being covered with foil; the lamb biryani waiting to be uncovered.

The attendant looked at me and before he could ask I said, “I’ll have the lamb also.”

“I’m sorry sir. That was the last one. All we have left is the chicken.”

Well, there are worse things that could happen.

A few hours later the service cart approached again. “I’d like the English breakfast,” I said.

You guessed it, “I’m so sorry. We just ran out of that. All we have left is the veg dosa.”

I laughed. “That’s fine. I understand.”

The experience reminded me of my trip to Israel. The church where I was a pastor at the time sent me with a group of pastors on a “Holy Land Tour.” It was sponsored by the Israeli Tourism Department. It didn’t cost much to go. The idea was to have pastors go and then get a group from their respective churches to put a tour together.

The tour was great and every day ended with a fancy meal around a big table with a presentation from the Israeli Tourism folks. We were seated randomly. There were no designated seating assignments. We just came in and sat down. Every night they started serving food in a circular manner around the table. And every night, for some reason, they began the service with the person to my left and worked around the table until they got to me, the last to be served.

One evening, in particular, one of the other pastors noticed my Charlie Brown luck and commented steering clear of me. I agreed that would be wise. The service started and sure enough, I was destined to be the last man standing. To make matters worse, when they finally got to me the server apologized that the caterer had miscalculated the number of guests and they were out of that fine-looking roast. “But don’t worry, we will get you something.”

They did. It was some kind of gristle.

I have learned that throwing a fit rarely accomplishes anything good. If they gave away the last of the lamb, complaining isn’t going to make lamb magically appear. If I insist on being served first, that just means some other poor sap gets the gristle meat. I’ve decided to laugh at my misfortune. Lucy isn’t going to steal my joy as well as my football.