by Chris Koellhoffer, IHM January 28, 2024
I heard her long before I saw her. Howling might be an accurate description of the shrieks that filled the front of the plane. Wailing, perhaps. No doubt about the source. Clearly it came from the high pitched decibels of a child’s distress. I found myself wondering about the why. Wondering about the when. Wondering about…and then the inevitable thought, “Oh, please, not my row!”
I was comfortably seated in my preferred place, an aisle seat, but the other seats in row 14 were empty as people were still boarding. Then began the scanning of each approaching passenger as the sobs grew closer. Could it be that woman? Did he look like someone searching? Was she holding the hand of a passenger under the age of five?
Finally, a man with weariness written across his face approached and murmured apologetically, “So sorry, but we’re in your row.” I stood up to allow them passage and smiled at the little girl. “Mommy! I want Mommy!” she cried. Her father tried gently and unsuccessfully to soothe her.
Once we settled in, something prompted me to ask, “Is ‘Mommy’ on this plane?” The father nodded yes. “By any chance, is she in an aisle seat?” Yes, again. I’m slightly claustrophobic and the pre-holiday flight was long and full, so his answer was important. “Do you suppose she might want to sit here?” became my next question.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” he replied, “because she’s in a bulkhead row and there would be no place for you to put your purse.” He was pointing, of course, to my gigantic, overstuffed shoulder bag that I dig out of the closet only when I’m flying. Between that and my wheeled carry-on loaded with my laptop, Bose speaker, and electronic equipment for a retreat, I more than filled the luggage restrictions.
“Let’s try,” I replied. “Mommy” was five rows ahead of me across the aisle, so I approached her and asked if she might want to switch places. Her face lit up, she nodded, her eyes filled with tears. Within two minutes, we had switched seats, both parents mouthing their gratitude. Even more remarkably, the incessant wailing ceased.
That might have been the end of this story except, as we landed, I remembered that my wheeled carry-on was five rows behind me in an overhead bin and I had a brief window of time to get to my connecting flight. How would I ever squeeze through five rows of passengers pulling their luggage from the bins and crowding the aisles?
That’s when I noticed the little girl’s father pointing overhead and mouthing to me, “Do you have something up there?” I nodded yes, and shrugged. “Mommy” got out of her seat, looked into the bin and questioned, “Does it have a floral design?” Yes, again. She pulled it down.
Another passenger who had witnessed our earlier switching places announced to everyone, “This kind lady,” pointing to me, “gave up her seat so a little girl’s mother could sit with her. Let’s return the favor by passing her luggage up the aisle.”
Like something out of a choreographed ballet, all hands between me and my bag immediately went up and passed the carry-on forward and into my arms. “Thank you,” I exclaimed gratefully. “There’s so much kindness around us, isn’t there?” With that, everyone in coach broke out into cheers and applause.
Why am I re-telling this story? Because when the pain of the world becomes too much for me, when I’m feeling overwhelmed at news of yet another account of shootings or violence, of cruelty or meanspiritedness, I return to stories like this one from last December. I give thanks for the impulse to good that lies in the heart of every person, even if we’ve yet to see it. I hear once again the cheers and applause of a plane full of holiday travelers, all of us simply trying to find our way home. And I remember that no act of love is ever lost, forgotten, or wasted.
Now it’s your turn. What might you add of your own story?
Takeaway
Sit in stillness with the Holy One.
Call to mind a time when you were moved or touched by the kindness of a stranger, or when you yourself offered an act of thoughtfulness to another.
Savor the feelings that were part of that story.
Ask the Holy One for the grace to be the face of love wherever you might be this day.
Featured Image: Marco Aurelio Conde, Unsplash
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