Today I did something brave.  A new friend whom I met at a networking event a month or so ago invited me to check out his church.  It took courage just to show up among a sea of strangers.  And he was a half hour late to boot!

But that’s another post for later this week.

After the service was over, we went out for a bite to eat and had a rather interesting discussion about his spiritual/religious beliefs, some of which I agreed with while I had difficulty wrapping my head around others (i.e. a wrathful God who doles out punishment).

At one point we were philosophizing (I love to philosophize!) about how God uses everyone as a messenger of sorts to reach out to others.  As I was talking about a specific instance of how I was used, I realized it had the making of a useful post here at Adversity University.

In September of 2000, I was looking for a part-time job to supplement my income while building a professional speaking career.  I had just left the world of Wall Street only a few years prior to pursue my newly established dreams of becoming a speaker, writer and eventually pilot.  Because I was still in the process of developing speech materials and getting myself out there, I needed to find a way to pay the bills.

It was right around that time I had a few months of flight training under my belt after having made the stupendous discovery on the Internet that deaf pilots had been flying since 1948.

By that point, I was taking flight instruction at a small one-man flight school.  But after several lessons, I was informed that Jason Barton (the flight instructor) had been offered a flying job in Colorado.  That meant he was shutting down and moving out West.  (The photo you see is a much thinner me standing next to a small Cessna 150 after my very first flight lesson on March 23, 2000).

An idea occurred to me that I should not only find another flight school, preferably a bigger one, but also find one where I could work part-time in exchange for steep airplane rental discounts.  I had gotten this idea from reading stories of pilots who had financed their flight training that way.

One thing led to another and I found myself at Troy-Oakland airport where I previously shared the story of a flight instructor who gave selflessly.  It was he who told me of an opening at that airport and introduced me to Susan, the personnel director.

An interview was set for me to meet two young men who were running the operations department.  For purposes of this story, I will call them Chris and Joe.

I distinctly remember the interview well.  Chris seemed pleasant but Joe was a bit guarded.  I could tell that Joe wasn’t all that enamored about hiring a deaf guy.   He didn’t seem to think I had what it took to be a line service specialist (i.e. fuel customer planes, tow them around and assist the mechanics with light maintenance work).  Carl, on the other hand, was enthusiastically full of ideas on how they could provide me with a text-based pager that vibrated every time a fuel order came through.

Despite Joe’s stiff resistance, I was hired.

As you can imagine, there was a lot to absorb, one of which was learning how to transfer thousands of gallons of fuel from the fuel farm into the trucks.  The learning curve, while not excessively steep, was a challenge for any newbie. (Photo credit:  Charly Mann)

One evening, I was out behind the fuel farm and Joe was there, watching me hook up the hoses and pull a few switches.  Of course, I was very nervous because I had all sorts of fears about what would happen if I made a mistake like spilling fuel or pulling the wrong switches.

As darkness fell, I had to use a flashlight throughout the task.  Joe was standing there with a smirk on his face.  It was almost as if he was willing me to make a mistake so that he could prove that I wasn’t up for it.

At one point, I asked him for some assistance and show me the ropes.  In an arrogant sort of way, he impatiently huffed and puffed his way through the procedures and literally dared me to follow suit.  That only made me even more nervous.

Needless to say, it was not a pleasant evening.  I had to shine the flashlight at his lips so that I could read them, which caused his ire to rise even further.  Thick tension hung in the air – you could have literally sliced through it, leaving a trail in its wake.

Eventually I eased into the routine and fell into the groove, no longer needing his unwanted attention.  Meanwhile, I was taking flight lessons from that flight instructor I told you about earlier (see the link above).  Apparently this earned me a bit of begrudging respect from Joe, especially after I finally became a pilot.  It didn’t take long after that before we became good friends, often flying together to a lot of different places.

One night we were flying back to the airport from a trip to Ohio (where I would eventually relocate to) when we experienced an electrical failure in the cockpit.

Unlike the photo you see at the left, instrument panel was pitch black.  All we could see was what was outside, the sprawling city lights, to guide us.

Now, this was not in of itself a catastrophic event because we were flying on a clear night but it required nerves of steel.  (Photo credit:  Dr. Engineer-001)

Since I had flown the first leg (from Michigan to Ohio) it was his turn to fly.  The emergency put him on the hot seat and I could see that his face was twitching, the likes of which I had never seen him do before.  The cockiness was no longer there.  This was for real.

I was instantly transformed from a lazy passenger in the right seat to a navigator, pointing out various cities on the way back.  A special flashlight was used to monitor critical instruments like the airspeed and altitude indicators, among others.

All of a sudden, we were a team.  Unlike the day I was learning how to fill up the fuel trucks, we really needed each other.  What a reversal of roles!  Obviously, we made it back safely but neither of us ever forgot the incident.  I would say this flight cemented our friendship even tighter for he realized I was one sharp fella in the cockpit after all.

A few years later, the airport management disbanded and sold the company to someone else who laid off virtually everyone including Joe and I.  Joe found another airport job and got married while I moved down to Ohio to begin my quest for the historic instrument rating.

We kept in touch mainly by email.  One day I received message that he and his wife wanted to fly themselves down to Ohio to meet with me on an urgent matter.

“We want to get some advice from you…it has to do with our baby boy.”

I quickly replied, “Sure, I’d be happy to see you two, come on down anytime!”

Arrangements were made to meet at Wadsworth Airport, a small field without an air traffic control tower where I had been renting planes for some time.  A date and estimated time of arrival was set.

On the day of their arrival, I excitedly drove myself to the airport and waited with anticipation.  Swirling in my mind were thoughts of what on earth they wanted to talk to me about.

Pretty soon a twin engine Diamond aircraft appeared in the sky, very close to the time Joe said they’d arrive.

It was them.

After Joe parked and shut down the aircraft, the three of us piled in my car and headed to Bob Evans for a bite to eat.  We ordered our meals and made idle chit-chat for several minutes.

My heart kept pounding.  I was impatient for them to get to the crust of the real reason for flying down to see me.  They weren’t just coming out to say, “Hello.”

And by the way, while we were catching up on things, I kept marveling at the fact that this guy, who once didn’t like me, was now here with his wife……to get my advice on something!

I kept watching for signs leading to an opening when it finally came.

From his wife.

“About our son……”

Here it comes. Setting down the fork, I leaned across the table.  “Yes?”

Taking a gulp of air she said, “Shortly after birth, the doctors performed routine tests on the baby and…….”

My eyes flitted back and forth between the wife and Joe.   I was stunned to see his eyes welling up.  He was definitely struggling to maintain his manly composure.  This was a guy who was not used to putting his emotions on display.

Suddenly, I knew what was coming.  I held my breath.

She continued, “Our son was born with a severe loss of hearing and we aren’t sure what to do about it.  We were hoping you’d give us some tips.”

There was a long, pregnant pause.  The air seem to crackle.

At that moment, my shoulders eased back and slumped.  It was similar to what people feel when they are finally told the truth after an extended build up of anticipation.

I spent the next several minutes sharing my own experiences of growing up deaf.  I talked about the possibility of getting hearing aids for him or opting for the cochlear implant surgery.  I described how I was taught to speak and how I learned sign language much later in life.

They were cautioned that what my parents chose for me might not necessarily work for them but that the options were there.  Parents of hearing impaired children have much more available to them today then when I was first diagnosed with deafness.   More ideas and tips were given to the very grateful parents.

Before long it was time to take them back to the airport.  I could tell the trip did them much good for they appeared much less burdened than when they first arrived – there was hope for their son.

The moral of the story?  It was no accident Joe was put on my path the way he was.  Without him realizing it, I ended up becoming his teacher.  Even I didn’t know why this guy was put into my life until that very moment.  It was so abundantly clear.  But it took years for the real reason we met to surface.

The universe is like that.  Mysterious, yet exacting.

Food for thought:  Have you ever had someone put on your path to teach you a lesson?  Looking back, can you think of someone who was put on your path so that you could teach them something of value?  I’d love to hear your stories of connection and how they panned out for you (or them).

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