Last Sunday morning found Corbin and I at the Barcelona airport, headed home from a couple of weeks of travel through Portugal and Spain. Our baggage check line snaked through the airport lobby, with agents periodically reshaping the lines to accommodate the accumulating travelers. The chatty woman behind me stood a little too close, and every time I inched forward, she rolled her bulky suitcase inches from my heel. Even my glance backward with a soft smile failed to deter her too-close-for-comfort proximity. In front of and behind us, a mix of different languages played the morning’s choppy soundtrack as we waited.
We finally made it to security, past yet another passport check, and waited for the plastic bins to unload all electronics and bags.
A pleasant, accented voice caught my attention.
“Here, we must take off our belts. Yes, everything out of our pockets. See, we put these things in the bins and then walk under that arch. No, it won’t hurt; you won’t feel anything. We just have to walk through it, and then we’ll get your belt back.”
I turned my head to see a woman instructing her young son how to navigate security. From the passport check to the security belt, she instructed him with cheerful words, a kind tone. I caught several glances and strained to eavesdrop as we worked our way through security. The woman’s patience with her son, and kindness of her words in teaching him, rose above the surrounding chaos.
Several times I thought, I want to tell her she’s a good mom.
I wanted to tell her that in all of the stressful, anxious tones and words thrown around the security funnel, the eye rolls when someone forgot to empty their pockets and was directed to file through again, the huffs when a suitcase required examination, that the melody of her kind tone trumped all of that.
I wanted to tell her that her son is fortunate to have a patient momma. And that nothing displays the inner heart like an early morning security line for international flights.
I missed the opportunity. In those quick minutes, I weighed the awkwardness of my words in the crowded, rushed atmosphere and remained silent.
But a handful of days later, I’m sitting on my back porch and she comes to mind. I think on her kindness, her patience, and taking the time to teach her young son. I wonder if, navigating those airport lines and crowds, she actually felt the inner peace that she outwardly displayed. Or if she felt tired and stressed, but managed the self control to keep her tone upbeat. I’ll never know.
I missed the opportunity to encourage this young woman. But to all of the other mommas I do get to live life with: your kindness, your patience, your training of your kiddos, it produces a sweet aroma that tempers all the noise and chaos around you. You’ll never know who you encourage – perhaps some onlooker in the security line who still thinks of you a week later – as you practice these qualities.
Hang in there and may you feel so celebrated and encouraged this Mother’s Day.