Parenting Is Like Flying: Lessons from the Cockpit

The instrument panel in the cockpit—whether you’ve stepped into one or just seen a picture, is stunning, fascinating, and overwhelming all at once. Aviation enthusiasts, forgive me; I’m about to fumble the flight codes you hold dear. All my untrained eyes see is a galaxy of buttons, switches, and blinking lights, all demanding attention. Depending on their personalities, some people, caught in amazement, want to touch and press everything, even though they have no idea what most of those buttons do. Others like me whisper, “Please don’t let me touch anything,” paralyzed by the fear of imminent disaster. A reminder of how little I understand and how hopelessly out of my depth I feel.

And honestly, my parenting journey often feels just like stepping into that cockpit: beautiful, terrifying, and humbling all at once. There are wonderful, breath-taking days when we fly smoothly through calm skies… and then there are days when the children leave you utterly out of breath, full of wonder at their unpredictable antics—though not always in the way you’d hope.

Parenting and flying share striking similarities. Aviation enthusiasts—remember my earlier apology?  Both call for routines and training, shaped by the need to plan ahead and sharpened situational awareness. They call for emergency preparedness and the flexibility to navigate sudden turbulence, along with the composure to remain solid under pressure and the wisdom to make calm decisions. Both rely on lessons gained through experience (black box moments), the strength of teamwork, and clear communication. And just like a pilot’s flight, the parenting journey is threaded with moments of awe, stretches where we settle into autopilot, seasons of turbulence to be weathered, and the grounding truth that we were never meant to pilot alone—but invited to share the cockpit with God.

Pilots undergo rigorous training before they are allowed to take the controls. They must log hours, pass exams, and meet strict requirements before flying solo—or commanding a commercial plane. Compared to this, the parenting journey can feel daunting. There are no “official flight hours,” no standardized test, and no one to declare you ready. And yet, the responsibility is immense. Who decides when someone is ready to be a parent, and how many hours would count as standard practice? How then do we equip ourselves for the unpredictable journey of raising children? Who trains us, and how do we know we’re ready?

Like flying, parenting requires preparation and ongoing learning. Many of us may have entered the journey already at a disadvantage—lacking training through no fault of our own, and scarred by imprints of our own history. Yet, just as pilots refine their skills through experience, parents, too, are presented opportunities to learn and relearn: through mentorship, reading, classes, and the lessons life faithfully teaches along the way. Training equips us to handle the journey. It places tools in our hands to navigate the unpredictable skies of parenting, giving us the confidence to steady ourselves in turbulence, make calm decisions under pressure, and still soar through the beautiful, challenging journey of raising children.

And in the midst of this preparation and practice, we are reminded of the grounding truth in Psalm 127:3: “Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from Him.”  Not merely the outcome of biology, but part of a divine plan where each child is a reward, a heritage, entrusted by God to our own hands. They are not simply passengers on this flight, but the very precious cargo entrusted to our care. Parenting, then, is not merely a responsibility to be learned but a sacred calling—woven into a larger divine tapestry.

Pilots don’t (necessarily) build the aircraft—they are trained to navigate it with wisdom, vigilance, and care. In the same way, we don’t create our children, even if they come through us or to us. As Genesis 1:26 reminds us: “Then God said, ‘Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness...’” Children are first God’s creation, made in His image, entrusted into our hands to steward for a season. Our role is to guide them with skill and steady hands.

Sometimes parenting looks like flying with a co-pilot—two parents partnering side by side in decision-making and care. For others, it feels more like a solo flight, where one parent takes the lead—a journey that can feel daunting at times. In both situations, the village—the extended family, friends, teachers, and community—serves as the ground crew, offering support, perspective, and fuel for the journey.

Yet even the most experienced pilot does not fly alone. A command tower is always present, providing guidance, perspective, and gentle reminders that they are never truly alone. For parents, this ultimate command tower is God. As Isaiah 41:10 reminds us: “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

These truths highlight the importance of shared responsibility and mutual support—whether from family, community, or faith. It takes more than one voice and more than one set of hands to chart a safe course through the skies of parenting. 

For frequent fliers, you may have heard announcements like these:

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing some turbulence. It should smooth out shortly. Please remain seated while the seatbelt sign is on. This is a normal part of flying, and the pilots are in control.”

Or:

“We’ve entered a bumpy area of air; we expect about 10–15 minutes of turbulence ahead. Nothing to worry about. Please stay seated and keep your seatbelt fastened until the seatbelt sign has been turned off.”

The pilot’s voice: calm, clear, and reassuring—never panicked, always steady.

Parenting comes with its own turbulence: tantrums that erupt without warning, emotional storms that shake the calm, crises that demand immediate attention, and unexpected detours that test our patience. In these moments, the instinct may be to react immediately, fix everything, or forcefully stop the storm. But just like passengers on a plane, our children need us to stay “belted in” until the signal is clear. It is a gentle reminder to us to trust the process and that calmer skies lie ahead. Rushing or panicking can exacerbate the bumps, while maintaining composure allows both parent and child to weather the storm safely – the difference between reacting and responding.

In doing so, we model resilience and faith for the little passengers entrusted to our care, teaching them how to navigate their own storms. Parenting, like flying, is not about avoiding turbulence. It’s keeping your instruments ready, leaning on ‘the village’ as our crew, and trusting the command tower above. He is in control. “He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, ‘Quiet! Be still!’ Then the wind died down, and it was completely calm. He said to his disciples, ‘Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” Mark 4:39–40 (NIV):

Just as every flight has both smooth skies and unexpected weather, so too does the parenting journey. In our September article, we will  continue to explore what it means to cruise on autopilot, reflect on our ‘black box moments’ – hard as they are – and understand what it means to let Him be The Pilot. His steady hands holding us firm.