Dear Heavenly Father,
First and foremost, I thank You for all the good times—for the joy I have experienced in those moments. I also thank You for the difficult times, for the lessons they have taught me. Through those challenges, I have learned so much: to be discerning with trust, to protect my life, to remain kind yet not overshare, to cherish my loved ones, to avoid gossip, to listen more, and to stay aware of my surroundings.
I’ve learned to put in the work when facing challenges, to value sleep and self-care, to be independent when needed, and to find my own happiness rather than relying on others. I’ve learned to hold myself accountable, to be punctual, and to wake up early so I’m not rushed—two hours before showtime usually works, sometimes three depending on the importance of the day. I’ve learned to always look professional, to have standards in everything I do, and to respond to aggression not with more aggression, but with calmness.
I’ve learned the importance of knowing how to defend myself if necessary, to document my experiences, and most importantly, to rely on You and pray about everything. And yes—even the simple lesson of staying hydrated with water.
Right now, I’m lying in bed, praying to You. It seems like everyone talks to You in their own way, but this—being in bed, talking to You—is my favorite place to be. Maybe that’s why people say “rest in peace.” I feel a sense of peace here, or at least more peace than usual, when I’m lying down and speaking with You.
It is now 5:00 a.m. The flight crew has left without me, and I am alone here in Guam. I’m just now realizing how tired I am—my body feels heavy. But three hours ago, at 1:38 a.m., I woke up early to prepare. I took a bath, styled my hair, put on my perfume, my cross, and my watch. I wore my uniform—a tailored dress with my scarf neatly placed. I covered my under-eyes, added blush and mascara, and finished with a soft lip color. My skin looked dewy, and everything came together smoothly. I looked polished, confident, and ready.
I was one of the first to arrive downstairs—second, actually. Karla was first, then me, followed by Moses, and then Forrest, who is my supervisor on the flight.
I told him everything regarding my badge was taken care of. He asked sharply if I had it on me right then. I told him it would be present on the plane. He raised his voice and insisted I needed to have it immediately.
I calmly asked to speak with him privately, away from the others. I explained that I didn’t have it on me at that moment, but that my instructor would provide it once we switched planes.
He then told me I would be written up and would not be allowed to continue to Australia. I told him I understood.
I also shared that I had spoken with an instructor I trust, someone who has been guiding me. When he asked who it was, I chose not to disclose their identity, as they wished to remain confidential.
I explained the full sequence of events—that I didn’t realize my badge was missing until I had already gone through security and arrived at the hotel in Guam.
He told me I should take responsibility, and he’s right—I should. It is my responsibility to have all required items.
At the same time, I recognize that this was my first real flight, and I was nervous. I was processing many emotions, especially knowing the purser was also new to her role. That added to my nerves.
Now I am back in my hotel room, waiting to hear from my supervisor. Thankfully, it’s Sunday, so I have time to rest. Another crew will be arriving, and I am hopeful I may be able to continue on to Thailand with them.
Today, I plan to take care of myself—eat, maybe visit the ocean, wash my clothes, and simply rest. I want to restore my energy so I can be ready for whatever comes next.
I can feel how tired I truly am now. My eyes are heavy. I didn’t realize it earlier, but I do now. I will eat something soon and allow my body to rest as it needs.
As I begin to fall asleep, I lift up a prayer not just for myself, but for anyone who may read this.
Lord, You know the challenges they face. Please give them a calmness like the one You are giving me now. Remind them that they are not alone. Let them feel Your presence in their everyday lives. Strengthen their faith and remove fear from their hearts.
Guide our steps and keep us in Your care. Help us to show kindness and mercy to others—even when it’s difficult. Let us be reflections of goodness in this world.
Remind us to seek You daily, not just in hardship but in all moments. Teach us to look for the lessons in every situation, no matter how small. Help us to find rest in You—through prayer, stillness, and quiet moments.
Help us remember that our bodies are temples, deserving of care and respect. Bless us with health, strength, and long lives, despite any challenges we may face.
Speak to us in our quiet moments. Help us to listen. Grow our faith each day as we walk with You.
No matter our circumstances, let us continue to praise You, trust You, and love deeply.
And above all, let love never leave our hearts.
Amen.
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