On The Journey To Caring for Others

On a CitiHope International relief mission in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, after Hurricane Katrina, I was approached with a request: On our way home, could our Angel Flight East jet fly to Houston to pick up a displaced minor and take him to a family member in Rhode Island? We did some calculations: Houston would require another hour's flight time at a cost of $2,000 for fuel, maintenance, and the two pilots. We decided to do it.
At a private airport in Houston, we met our thirteen-year-old passenger, Jerry (not his real name). When he saw the jet, Jerry asked, "You mean I get to fly in this?" The pilots told him "You bet!" After signing the necessary paperwork, I heard myself say to Jerry: "Listen, we flew all the way here to pick you up for one reason: Because you are special!"
During the three-hour flight, Jerry's story came out in bits and pieces. He has a fifteen-year-old brother who had decided not to join him. He also has two younger sisters, who live with "Auntie." "My father and grandmother raised us," Jerry said. "I never knew my mother." Their grandmother died a couple years ago. "We made it through the hurricane okay," he explained, "but when the levees broke, our apartment was flooded. My cousin and I crossed the street in water up to our necks. I stepped in a hole, and he had to pull me up. I don't know how to swim."
They waded across the street to gather food at the closest grocery store. Unable to return to their lower-level apartment, they climbed to the roof of the complex, where they joined about thirty-five neighbours. The third day after the storm, a helicopter found them and flew them out of the city. Jerry's brother and his cousin were with him, but the transfer buses went on to different shelters, and the boys were separated. Jerry ended up alone at the Houston Astrodome, where he stayed for nearly two weeks. His father had disappeared and his mother, we were told, had drowned.
Soon we reached our destination. We took pictures and said goodbye. I arrived back home at 12:30 a.m., exhausted from my eighteen-hour day. Yet it was a sweet exhaustion of mission accomplished: a million dollars' worth of medicine delivered and a missing boy transported to his new guardian.
Was it worth the $2,000 to pick him up in a private jet rather than purchase a coach-class ticket on Continental? Through the generosity of the owners of the Saber 65 and the mission of Angel Flight, I had the means to give Jerry this trip, and the privilege to tell him: "Listen, we flew all the way here to pick you up for one reason: Because you are special!"
I can still see Jerry's winning smile and wide eyes when he got on the plane. This poor kid from New Orleans flying in a corporate jet was worth every dollar spent. Sometimes it takes extravagant efforts to show people they are special and loved.

- Michael J. Christensen