The Mama in seat 27A

I hate to fly.  It is a fear that I picked up from my mother.  She was a white knuckle flyer.  "It's just not natural" she would say.  "We belong on the ground."  I couldn't agree more.  I remember going on a plane with her... she would sit in the same seat for the entire trip... even if it was 10 hours long for fear that if she got up the plane would shift... everyone should stay seated!  I see her point.  But I decided that as a mother myself I
would try to break this cycle of fear and try not to pass it on to my own children.  After all - in every other aspect of my life I can say... "God is in control"... it's just that mama always said....
So it's no surprise that I can spot a white knuckel flyer from a mile away.  The fear in their face, the repeated swallowing - as if all of the spit has dried from their mouths - the blank stare as they try to stay calm... I know the look... so I was confused last week when I saw a woman who appeared to fit the description.  They were sitting in the row behind us - Mom and Dad with 4 children - 3 older boys and the cutest little 3 year old girl.  They got on the plane and settled in - the mom and I sharing knowing glances as we tried to settle our kids in for the flight. I thought I could peg her as a white knuckle flyer - but something about her was different.  She smiled politely at me - but she was cold and dismissive to her children.  The cute little girl was so excited - bouncing up and down saying... Mama look at this and Mama look at that.  The Mama - totally unresponsive.  The older brother was sitting on the other side of the little girl and he seemed to be the one to take care of her. My mind was racing - what was wrong with this woman?  Why was she so cut of from her children?  Was she scared of the flight?  Was she just a mean Mama?  and then it dawned on me - maybe she was depressed...  The look she had - It wasn't fear - it was depression... I have seen that look before staring back at me from my own bathroom mirror.  She was consumed with depression and I knew it. 
I wanted to talk to her so badly - I wanted to help!  "I have been there" I wanted to scream.  It will pass - you will be OK!  I wanted to open up my Jesus can on her and tell her that He understood and He was with there all the way.  I wanted to hug her and sit with her and give her a small glimmer of hope.  I remember sitting and staring for hours stuck in a sea of depression.  I was short with my kids, I was short with my husband.  I was so sad.  It took a long time for me to snap out of it - and when I did I wondered about the
aftermath... had I damaged my children by "neglecting" them?  Had I hardened them in some way by not showing them the full happiness and love they deserved?  Had I failed as a mother?  All of these thoughts were racing through my head as I tried not to obviously stare at the Mama.  And then I looked at the whole picture - here was the depressed Mama with her 4 children and they looked OK.  The little girl was as happy as can be - the 3 sons...fine. They looked OK.  Even the dad was ok - occasionally disciplining the kids and taking the little one to the potty....  I felt hope!  These children were OK - the dad... OK!  They were making it through Mamas depression - just like my family did. 
You never know the lessons you will learn as you "travel" through life... you just never know.  I pryed for Mama.  I smiled at her and wondered if we would cross paths on our vacation... I hoped that we would.  My biggest wish would be for an automatic Starbucks to pop open so Mama and I could get a cup of coffee together.  But I guess that I will just be content knowing that Mama will probably be OK - the kids will make it out OK and their marriage... maybe with a few bumps and bruises, will survive.  I will continue to pray for
Mama, and hope to catch up with her at Cindarellas castle.