“Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans.” – Allen Saunders

When the flight didn’t take off, the day did.
I was supposed to be in the air by now—somewhere over the Pacific, halfway home.
Instead, I’m grounded.
Delayed by 13 hours.
No reason given. No apology sent.
Just a quiet notice from Air Premia that our departure had been bumped from morning to almost midnight.
At first, it felt like an inconvenience.
But as the day unfolded, it began to feel like something else: a comma in the story that turned out to be a whole new sentence.
“We plan the way we want to live, but only God makes us able to live it.” – Proverbs 16:9 (MSG)
🧳 What the Day Gave Us Instead
We cleaned up our Airbnb in Itaewon—ate breakfast, brewed coffee, scrolled through news about Jungkook.
It was supposed to be the last morning. The end.
But apparently, the day still had more to say.
We left our bags in storage and headed to Myeongdong for a few final errands.
At Space of BTS, I picked up the complete BTS album magnet set. Small, yes—but it felt symbolic.
It wasn’t just a souvenir. It was an anchor. A reminder that even when everything’s up in the air, some things still hold.
We wandered through Shinsegae, found a corner to sit, ate lunch without a rush.
That’s when it hit me: this day, the one that wasn’t supposed to exist, might actually be the one that gives closure.
We took the bus back, picked up our luggage, grabbed a taxi to Incheon.
I fell asleep somewhere on the freeway—my body finally exhaling.
The sun was dipping low by the time we checked in at Hotel Seattle.
Dinner was Kyochon chicken, because what else do you eat on a day where everything’s sideways?
We walked to Daiso, picked up last-minute things we didn’t know we needed, and came back to the room.
Then came the familiar comfort: BTS episodes, muted hotel lights, a quiet sense of enough.
My coworker fell asleep mid-episode. I stayed up a little longer, trying to bottle it—this unexpected final night.
🌿 Soul Insights
From a Delayed Departure
Not every delay is a disaster.
I didn’t ask for a 13-hour hold. But maybe grace did. Sometimes the soul isn’t ready to leave, even when the body thinks it is.
Goodbyes need space.
I didn’t make it to Insadong. But I did make it to stillness. To laughter. To one last magnet. And maybe that’s exactly what farewell needed to look like.
Stillness is underrated. In a world addicted to motion, pausing can feel like failure. But stillness is where memory settles. It’s where clarity finds you.
“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes… including you.” – Anne Lamott
Everyone is in motion.
Even BTS. Jungkook and Jimin are already in LA. Namjoon is vacationing in Switzerland. Jin is prepping for a world tour. Hobi just wrapped his. Everyone’s moving—but I’m learning that pausing is still part of the dance.
God is present in the pauses.
I didn’t need more plans. I needed peace. And today—ironically, painfully, gently—that’s what I was given.
💭 Final Reflections: When the Story Doesn’t End on Time
We like to think we control the story.
We pick our dates, book our flights, say our goodbyes on schedule.
But sometimes God leaves a blank page at the end—and invites us to sit in it a little longer.
“Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life.” – Psalm 23:6
Jungkook and Jimin already crossed the ocean.
Namjoon is chasing stillness in the Alps.
Jin is about to launch. Hobi just landed.
And me? I’m in Incheon, in between departure and arrival, scribbling one more page into this trip I thought had already ended.
Tomorrow, I’ll board the plane.
But tonight, I’m here. Still. Present.
And somehow, that’s more than enough.
📣 PS: If You’re in Your Own In-Between…
If you’ve ever found yourself stuck between chapters—delayed, confused, or grounded in a story that doesn’t seem to move—I hope this post reminds you:
You’re not behind. You’re becoming.
And if you want more words like these, my poetry book 17 Syllables of Me was born from these kinds of moments. The quiet ones. The unplanned ones. The ones that shift you without warning.
Until then, may every pause be a portal.
© 2025 Amelie Chambord

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