Right before the jet way door closed, I
scrambled aboard the plane going from LA to Chicago, lugging my laptop and
overstuffed briefcase. It was the first leg of an important business trip
a few weeks before Christmas, and I was running late. I had a ton of work
to catch up on. Half wishing, half praying I muttered, "Please God,
do me a favor; let there be an empty seat next to mine, I don't need any
I was on the aisle in a two seat row.
Across sat a businesswoman with her nose buried in a newspaper. No
problem. But in the seat beside mine, next to the window, was a young boy
wearing a big red tag around his neck: Minor Traveling Unattended.
The kid sat perfectly still, hands in his
lap, eyes straight ahead. He'd probably been told never to talk to
strangers. Good, I thought.
Then the flight attendant came by.
"Michael, I have to sit down because we're about to take off,"
she said to the little boy. "This nice man will answer any of your
Did I have a choice? I offered my hand,
and Michael shook it twice, straight up and down.
"Hi, I'm Jerry," I said.
"You must be about seven years old."
"I'll bet you don't have any
kids," he responded.
"Why do you think that? Sure I
do." I took out my wallet to show him pictures.
"Because I'm six."
"I was way off, huh?"
The captains' voice came over the
speakers, "Flight attendants, prepare for takeoff."
Michael pulled his seat belt tighter and
gripped the armrests as the jet engines roared.
I leaned over, "Right about now, I
usually say a prayer. I asked God to keep the plane safe and to send
angels to protect us."
"Amen," he said, then added,
"but I'm not afraid of dying. I'm not afraid because my mama's
already in Heaven."
"I'm sorry." I said.
"Why are you sorry?" he asked,
peering out the window as the plane lifted off.
"I'm sorry you don't have your mama
My briefcase jostled at my feet,
reminding me of all the work I needed to do.
"Look at those boats down
there!" Michael said as the plane banked over the Pacific.
"Where are they going?"
"Just going sailing, having a good
time. And there's probably a fishing boat full of guys like you and
"Doing what?" he asked.
"Just fishing, maybe for bass or
tuna. Does your dad ever take you fishing?"
"I don't have a dad," Michael
Only six years old and he didn't have a
dad, and his Mom had died, and here he was flying halfway across the
country all by himself. The least I could do was make sure he had a good
flight. With my foot I pushed my briefcase under my seat.
"Do they have a bathroom here?"
he asked, squirming a little.
"Sure," I said, "let me
take you there."
I showed him how to work the
"Occupied" sign, and what buttons to push on the sink, then he
closed the door. When he emerged, he wore a wet shirt and a huge smile
"That sink shoots water
The attendants smiled.
Michael got the VIP treatment from the
crew during snack time. I took out my laptop and tried to work on a talk I
had to give, but my mind kept going to Michael. I couldn't stop looking at
the crumpled grocery bag on the floor by his seat. He'd told me that
everything he owned was in that bag. Poor kid.
While Michael was getting a tour of the
cockpit the flight attendant told me his grandmother would pick him up in
Chicago. In the seat pocket a large manila envelope held all the paperwork
regarding his custody. He came back explaining, "I got wings! I got
cards! I got more peanuts. I saw the pilot and he said I could come back
For a while he stared at the manila
"What are you thinking?" I
He didn't answer. He buried his face in
his hands and started sobbing. It had been years since I'd heard a little
one cry like that. My kids were grown -- still I don't think they'd ever
cried so hard. I rubbed his back and wondered where the flight attendant
"What's the matter buddy?" I
All I got were muffled words "I
don't know my grandma. Mama didn't want her to come visit and see her
sick. What if Grandma doesn't want me? Where will I go?"
"Michael, do you remember the
Christmas story? Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus? Remember how they
came to Bethlehem just before Jesus was born? It was late and cold, and
they didn't have anywhere to stay, no family, no hotels, not even
hospitals where babies could be born. Well, God was watching out for them.
He found them a place to stay; a stable with animals."
"Wait, wait," Michael tugged on
my sleeve. "I know Jesus. I remember now." Then he closed his
eyes, lifted his head and began to sing. His voice rang out with a
strength that rocked his tiny frame. "Jeeesus looooves me--thiiiiiis
I knowwwwwww. For the Biiiiiible tells meeeeee sooooo....."
Passengers turned or stood up to see the
little boy who made the large sound. Michael didn't notice his audience.
With his eyes shut tight and voice lifted high, he was in a good place.
"You've got a great voice," I
told him when he was done. "I've never heard anyone sing like
"Mama said God gave me good pipes
just like my grandma's," he said. "My grandma loves to sing, she
sings in her church choir."
"Well, I'll bet you can sing there,
too. The two of you will be running that choir."
The seat belt sign came on as we
approached O'Hare. The flight attendant came by and said we just have a
few minutes now, but she told Michael it's important that he put on his
seat belt. People started stirring in their seats, like the kids before
the final school bell. By the time the seat belt sign went off, passengers
were rushing down the aisle. Michael and I stayed seated.
"Are you gonna go with me?" he
"I wouldn't miss it for the world
buddy!" I assured him.
Clutching his bag and the manila envelope
in one hand, he grabbed my hand with the other. The two of us followed the
flight attendant down the jet way. All the noises of the airport seemed to
fill the corridor.
Michael stopped, flipping his hand from
mine, he dropped to his knees. His mouth quivered. His eyes brimmed with
"What's wrong Michael? I'll carry
you if you want."
He opened his mouth and moved his lips,
but it was as if his words were stuck in his throat. When I knelt next to
him, he grabbed my neck. I felt his warm, wet face as he whispered in my
ear, "I want my mama!"
I tried to stand, but Michael squeezed my
neck even harder. Then I heard a rattle of footsteps on the corridor's
"Is that you, baby?"
I couldn't see the woman behind me, but I
heard the warmth in her voice.
"Oh baby," she cried.
"Come here. Grandma loves you so much. I need a hug, baby. Let go of
that nice man." She knelt beside Michael and me.
Michael's grandma stroked his arm. I
smelled a hint of orange blossoms.
"You've got folks waiting for you
out there, Michael. Do you know that you've got aunts, and uncles and
She patted his skinny shoulders and
started humming. Then she lifted her head and sang. I wondered if the
flight attendant told her what to sing, or maybe she just knew what was
right. Her strong, clear voice filled the passageway, "Jesus loves me
-- this I know..."
Michael's gasps quieted. Still holding
him, I rose, nodded hello to his grandma and watched her pick up the
grocery bag. Right before we got to the doorway to the terminal, Michael
loosened his grip around my neck and reached for his grandma.
As soon as she walked across the
threshold with him, cheers erupted. From the size of the crowed, I figured
family, friends, pastors, elders, deacons, choir members and most of the
neighbors had come to meet Michael. A tall man tugged on Michael's ear and
pulled off the red sign around his neck. It no longer applied.
As I made my way to the gate for my
connecting flight, I barely noticed the weight of my overstuffed briefcase
and laptop. I started to wonder who would be in the seat next to mine this
time...... And I smiled.