God Knows You—No Picture ID Needed
“I knew you before I formed you in your mother’s womb” (Jeremiah 1:5a, NLT).
As I am getting ready to board another airplane, heading home next week after teaching at back-to-back writers’ conferences here in Florida, I am reminded of the time my wallet was stolen and I had no ID to get onto the plane. I had been visiting my daughter, Allyson, in Los Angeles and had no way of obtaining a new picture ID before heading back to Indiana. I was stressed.
Knowing this would be a problem, I called Southwest Airlines ahead of time and told the customer service specialist what had happened, that I was without any form of ID, and that I wouldn’t be able to get an ID before I flew out on Monday. She sympathized with my plight and simply said, “Just make sure you arrive really early and tell the security people your situation. They will work with you to prove you are the person you say you are.” Seemed reasonable enough to me, so I made sure I arrived at LAX more than three hours before my flight (which if you know me—you realize that in itself is a miracle of God).
“This could be a problem.”
Once I checked my bags and explained my story, I stood in the normal security line for almost an hour. When my turn came to show my boarding pass and ID, I handed over my boarding pass and shared my story with the airport security officer. He looked at me and said, “This could be a problem. Stand to the side while I call for my supervisor.”
I stepped to the side, feeling like a criminal or something, and as I did—all eyes were on me. Obviously, everyone in line thought I was a terrorist. Come to think of it, I was dressed in all black, which is my normal attire. Anyway, about 15 minutes later, the supervisor arrived and escorted me to a different holding area. And, yes, everyone was still looking at me. I told him my backstory and he asked, “So you don’t have anything on you that identifies you? A piece of mail? A photo ID of any kind? Possibly a library card?”
Everyone was still staring at me, and now I looked like a terrorist who might also have a drug problem. Awesome.
“No, my library card was in my wallet. I don’t have any mail with me but I do have one of my books with me that has my name on it and my picture…will that work?”
“Let me see it,” he said. “No this won’t work.”
Just as he answered, I realized that my legal name and my pen name aren’t the same: “Michelle Leigh Adams” and “Michelle Medlock Adams” are close, but not close enough for airport security.
Getting desperate, I offered: “I have a prescription bottle with my name on it because I was fighting an ear infection before I left for this trip…will that help?”
He took the bottle from my hand and read the prescription number over the phone to someone giving him orders. Everyone was still staring at me, and now I looked like a terrorist who might also have a drug problem. Awesome.
“What is the make, model and year of your car?” he asked.
“Uhhh….it’s black,” I said, having no idea the specifics. I finally remembered the kind of car it was but not the year or exact model.
Would I ever make it on that plane?“What kind of vehicle did you have before your current car?”
“Uhhh…it was a small SUV, like a Dodge Durango or possibly an Equinox. I don’t remember exactly but it was goldish tan with leather interior and lighted makeup mirrors.”
He smiled at me, thinking I was making a joke, but I really wasn’t. That was about all I could remember about that vehicle.
“I can call my husband and ask him. He is the ‘car guy’ in our house. He’ll know all of those answers,” I added, but the supervising security guy told me to put away the phone and instructed me to leave it in my purse until given permission to use it.
I am so going to the place they took Greg Focker when he said “bomb” on board the airplane in “Meet the Parents,” I thought.
“What is your home address and phone number?” he asked.
Finally some questions I know the answers to—yay! I thought.
After several more minutes, he took me to another area where I was patted down by two different female security guards, and let’s just say, they were very thorough. Yikes! After going through all of my carry-ons and checking every orifice of my body, I was cleared to fly. I had somehow proven I was “Michelle Adams”—even though I had no idea the make, model, and year of my car.
Father, thank You for knowing me.
As I was sitting on the plane bound for Indianapolis, I was thanking God that I was able to travel home that day. While I was in the thankfulness mode, I also prayed, “Father, thank You for knowing me. Thank You that I don’t have to know the make, model and year of my car to get entrance into your presence. Thank You for calling me Your child and knowing how many hairs I have on my head and caring about every aspect of my life. Thank You….”
Isn’t it wonderful that the Creator of the world knows you by name? The Word says that He knew you before you were even formed in your mama’s belly. He knows you—really knows you—and He calls you His child. How wonderful! Rejoice in that awesome truth today. Oh, and while you’re at it, you might want to review the make, model and year of your car—just in case you ever lose your wallet before a scheduled flight. 
