Immediately upon takeoff, the L1011 started bumping up and down and jerking left to right. The plane then began dipping wildly and one wing lunged downward. The plane climbed higher, but that did not help. After some minutes, the pilot made the grave announcement that they were about to try a crash landing. The hydraulic system had also failed, he intoned, so he was not sure that the landing gear would lock. The travelers were horrified. Some were hysterical, and even the most stoic looked grim and ashen. A few tried to hold their composure by gripping armrests. Others cried and screamed.

In the midst of the chaos, a mother was just talking to her child. The mother’s gaze held the child so fixed and intent that she seemed untouched by the sounds around them. “I love you so much. Do you know for sure that I love you more than anything? Remember, no matter what happens, that I love you always. And that you are a good girl. Sometimes things happen that are not your fault. You are still a good girl and my love will always be with you." Then the mother put her body over her daughter’s, strapped the seat belt over both of them, and prepared to crash.

For no earthly reason, the landing gear held.

The crash landing was not the disaster it seemed destined to be. The woman had never wavered, never acknowledged doubt, and maintained an evenness that seemed emotionally and physically impossible. Not one of the other passengers could have spoken without a tremoring voice.

Only the greatest courage, under-girded by even greater love, could have borne the mother up and lifted her above the chaos around her.

-- From Casey Hawley, “What Courage Looks Like," in Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen, A Third Serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul, (Deerfield Beach, Florida: Health Communications, Inc., 1996).