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 questions, okay?"

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 here."

My briefcase jostled at my feet, reminding me of all the work I
neededto 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 me."

"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 sadly responded.

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 everywhere!"

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 anytime!"

For a while he stared at the manila envelope.

"What are you thinking?" I asked Michael.

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 was.

"What's the matter buddy?" I asked.

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 that."

"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 asked.

"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 jetway. 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 tears.

"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 metal floor.

"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 cousins?"

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.

~ © Jerry Seiden ~
My sincere thanks to Jerry for permission to use his story.