Yesterday, I took both kids (toddlers) on a plane by myself. I wasn’t thrilled about it. I had repeatedly said there was no way I could handle two kids on a plane. I just couldn’t do it.
But then, due to a number of circumstances, I didn’t have a choice. So I read a lot of advice, packed a lot of snacks, said a little prayer, and off we went.
It was the second worst flight from a turbulence standpoint I’ve ever been on…and trust me I fly a lot and strange things happen on my planes! It was hot and bumpy and I was holding a sweaty almost-two-year-old basically thinking I was about to puke at any moment. (Meanwhile, the kids thought it was great and kept talking about how fun he “turns” were.)
Just before we landed, a boy who was flying alone and was about 13 years old took off running down the aisle. The flight attendants yelled at him on he intercom and he responded that he was about to throw up.
Being sympathetic to that plight and a kid flying alone, I told him to sit down next to us. I handed him the barf bag I had ready for me and offered to put a cool baby wipe on the back of his neck and fan him with he safety information card. Mom mode hit hard!
We landed, no one in our seats puked, and he thanked me several times.
When we got off the plane, I just laughed. After professing my inability to handle two kids on a plane, leave it to God to give me three.
God gives us the strength and ability we need when we need it. You know, manna and all.
We’re almost always stronger and braver and tougher than we give ourselves (or Him) credit for.