I’m sitting in the middle seat of a B757, enduring a 4.5 hour flight from San Francisco to Atlanta. Somewhere one or two rows back from my luxurious accommodations in seat 40E, a young child has been crying or whining for most of the trip. I can relate.
The kid is uncomfortable, tired, board, and he doesn’t understand what is going on. The parents try to console the child. Daddy holds him tight. He provides food and drink. A blanket. Tries to entertain at times. Other times, he is stern, letting the child know he needs to quit whining and crying. Still he screams and complains, spouting a high pitched call to “Daddy” then screaming unintelligible baby objections for all the world to hear. It doesn’t solve his situation. It only makes him and those around him more miserable.
Eventually, our 4.5 hour trial will be over and things will be good again. I’ll get out of my cramped middle seat and the young child will be back home with his toys. The kid will stop crying for awhile and the Father will smile. He knows His child does not understand. He foresees the day when His child grows up and learns to endure the trials with patience and grace. But for now He loves him anyway. And works to get him ready for the next middle seat.