"Let's do an exercise..." (A Story from the Airplane.)

"Let's do an exercise," he said. "It's called 'How much do you trust me?'"
I was at the gate (to board my plane from Portland). I was the last one to check in.
"You're going to need to check your bag," the clerk told me.
I assumed it was in relation to the amount of items I held (more than two), for which I was ready to defend my case: "I have one 'carry-on' and one 'personal item'. Pillows and blankets don't count. And I have dietary restrictions, which is why I am have this whole box of Red Robin french fries..." (Ha!) But no, I needed to check my bag because there was no space left on the plane in the overhead compartments.
"Oh! Okay." I hesitated as I handed it off. I had packed with expecting to have access to it. Would I need anything out of it? Toothbrush, change of clothes, headphones, pens? I would do with out. Go ahead and take my bag!
But then I remembered (and for this reason I almost ran through the door after it): my food.
All the food I had packed (except the french fries) were in that bag. Fruit bars, trailmix, oatmeal, cookies. Everything I was going to eat (and not buy) during my flights and layovers.
Food, mind you, is connected to my sense of security and control. (I guess that happens when you have food-intolerances.) So security and control? All gone. (I was a little "frantic!")
I got on the plane. I sat down. And that's when I heard the statement above.
I paused. "Okay, Jesus, I trust you."

And I tell you now, I was just fine. In my other bag I found a pack of cookies and one pen (with which I wrote this story down). "Thank you, Jesus. I didn't really want to carry that bag around anyways."

: )