Miles To Go Before I Sleep by Jackie Nink Pflug Page A

I’d set up the school’s first special education program. I’d gone hiking in the fjords near Oslo, cross-country skiing near Stavanger, and spent Christmas break downhill skiing on the slopes of Innsbruck, Austria.
    The world was opening up to me and I was drinking it all in.
    I felt stronger and more mature after braving the hardships of daily life in Cairo. I’d also gone through a lot of changes in the past few months: I’d started a new job, adjusted to a new country and culture, gotten married, and made new friends. Making it in a country so different from my own did wonders for my confidence and self-esteem. I was growing a lot and had lots to be thankful for: a new husband, a great job, students I really loved, and the chance to travel.
    Then I suddenly recalled the two Greek men who had forced their way to the head of the line at the Athens airport. At the time, I was really burned up about it. But from my new vantage point, it all seemed so trivial. What was the big deal? I could have chosen to let it bounce off me instead of getting mad. How pointless it is to get mad about things we can’t control….
    I thought about other ways that I’d let little things get in the way of really experiencing life. Before the hijacking, I’d been just as caught up in looking good and worrying about other people’s opinions of me as anyone else. I’d defined success as having a good job, a nice house, and a relationship with a man.
    I realized that none of these were bad to want, but that there was so much more to life than trudging off to work every morning, wearing the right clothes, and driving the right car. I realized how pointless it was to let others’ opinions determine how I lived my life.
    As death drew near, a strange, unfamiliar feeling rushed through me: I felt a strong, surging desire to live. I wanted to see my students, spend more time getting to know Scott, and keep learning and growing. I felt grateful that at least I’d followed my heart for two years. But there was so much more I wanted to do! I wanted to see my hair turn gray. I wanted to live to see my grandchildren some day….
    If only I had more time.

    For the first twelve hours of the hijacking, I stayed keenly alert, devoting all my mental and physical energy to planning a possible escape. During the night, I managed to work my hands free of the tie that bound them.
    If I’m going to be shot , I kept thinking, I hope it’s at night. Maybe I can crawl away in the dark. Or somehow knock the gun out of his hands and make a run down the stairs. But they had guns and grenades. Maybe there were more bad guys around the corner that I didn’t see—with more guns and grenades. And I was so tired….
    I wanted to live so much, but it wasn’t under my control. I did the only thing I could think of. I prayed the “Lord’s Prayer” again.
    One hour, then two hours went by. I kept praying.
    Looking out the window, through the faint glare of headlights from the trucks surrounding our plane, I saw rain coming down in sheets. It was storming outside. Every now and then, lightning lit the sky.
    Dear, God, I want to live. I put my life in Your hands.
    All of a sudden, a bolt of lightning lit up the sky like I’d never seen before. Tears were pouring down my face as the rain poured down.
    I suddenly knew I was going to be safe. I didn’t know whether I was going to live or die; I just knew I was going to be safe. A wonderful, warm sensation flooded my body—and I felt safe. Nobody could hurt me. The hijackers could do whatever they wanted to my body, but I’m going to still feel safe.
    I smiled and said, “Thanks, God.” As I said this, I no longer heard the noise of the plane’s engines or children crying.
    Whatever happens, happens , I thought. If I live, I’ll be okay and if I die, I’ll be okay. That’s what the safe feeling meant to