"Losing it" in Ecuador

Today I walked with two friends and we chatted often about our recent trip to Ecuador. My honest friend made mention of the fact that it was the first time she'd seen me "lose it" then she went on to recall she had not seen anyone else "lose it" the entire trip. It's true. Our mantra for the whole trip was:
Be Flexible!
Be Positive!
Be a Servant!
At the moment she was refering to, I was not flexible. I was not positive. I was not a servant. So time to tattle on myself again. The absolute low point of the entire 11 days came near the end of our first travel day. We were praising God as we stepped off the airport into Quito, thankful that everything had gone so smoothly. I took pictures of the giant bouquets of roses positioned right next to the lines for customs. The long lines did not daunt me and I was excited to be there. One of my offspring, who will not be named because it might embarass him, told us he needed to go to the bathroom, or now that we were in Ecuador, el bano (just pretend that "n" has a tilde over it), and he had to go REALLY bad. Apparently he'd not visited that important place since we'd left Santa Rosa a LONG time ago. I wasn't too worried as we waiting in the long lines, he could go soon. I was actually more concerned about beating the Schneider's through customs since I'd led my husband to a different line than the one he'd chosen, which was right behind those kind folks. By the time we made it through showing our passports and declaring our intentions, (we didn't beat the Schneiders -- I hate it when he's right) our boy was near panic. He rushed off to ask directions only to be told the bano (imagine that tilde again) was out a door we had no assurance we would be able to return through. The only choice was to get all our luggage and drag it through and finish the process before we could search for the little boys room. We each had a large carryon, a large checked bag, and also had to gather one group bag each. Since our two girls were not physically able to handle any group luggage, that meant Scott and I each had four bags. We were one of the last families to get to this point, so the smaller group luggage on wheels had already been claimed. What we ended up with could have passed for body bags--heavy body bags--heavy body bags with no wheels. As I was desperately dragging these enormous bags, inch by inch, closer to the finish, spurred on by the panic in my son's eyes, which by now had begun to turn yellow, my attitude plumented. I don't know if it was my muttering or the look on my face that keyed Stan in that I was "losing it". He graciously offered to help me drag one of the body bags. Later I reflected that it was a wise choice on his part to offer help rather than remind me:
Be Flexible!
Be Positive!
Be a Servant!
Had he chosen the latter, I might have thrown something at him.
Once we made it through that airport and out to the group waiting for the bus, we began looking for that bano ("n" with a tilde) in earnest. It took several tries, but alas all was right with the world once again. The worst part now was knowing I'd pretty much crumbled at that first big obstacle. It is God's grace that I never descended to that point again for the rest of the week, God's grace that He loves me inspite of my weakness and pride, and God's grace that no one else "lost it" quite like that. (I might have felt better if they had, but it is to the glory of God that they didn't!)