Sammy wiggled uncomfortably on the seat next to his dad. He normally spent his afternoon playing and having fun. Now he was being forced to sit in this tiny seat. He didn’t like this at all.
He cried. He wiggled. He pulled on his dad’s shirt, begging him to get him off this terrible thing he heard his dad call an airplane. He tried to look out the window, but all he saw was darkness. Night had already fallen.
Then the airplane began to move. Sammy clung to his dad, terrified. Why was everything moving? What was happening? He cried even louder. Would somebody please make this all end?
While the airplane straightened out a little, the ride continued. Sammy felt trapped. He wanted to race somewhere, anywhere. But he couldn’t.
Sammy’s father kept trying to comfort, explain, and get Sammy to enjoy the things he’d brought for Sammy to do, but Sammy didn’t listen to his father. He refused to take his mind of the discomfort he felt. He began to wonder if his dad really loved him. If he did, wouldn’t he get him out of this terrible situation?
After what felt like forever but was really only a short time, the airplane again tilted terribly. Sammy screamed as loud as he could. Soon, though, the airplane landed and Sammy found himself walking down the aisle and off the airplane at last.
He suddenly found himself in a wonderful new place surrounded by wonderful people and having a wonderful time. He quickly forgot all about the terrible airplane. He’d discovered what his father had known (and tried to tell him) all along: that the destination was worth the journey.
For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. 2 Corinthians 4:17-18 (ESV)
Cc Kate Hannon