The little man

They were on the rooftop of an apartment building. One dozen, two dozen, three dozen-no one remembers how many men, women and children were there awaiting help. No one, not even the people themselves know how long they were on that roof waiting. No one knows how many prayers were said.

The water was a foot below the rooftop itself. Was it still rising? Would it begin to rise again? Would the rats escape the water and climb on the roof with the families? These questions run like a loop in the minds of the parents that are awaiting assistance.

The helicopter(s) were heard and seen many times. How do you prioritize the rescue of so many people? How do you chose which building or home or roof top you approach next or FIRST? There is no easy way to decide. You look for life, first of all and then you look for children. That is the first rule. Children first. And that is as it should be. Sometimes, there isn't room for "women and children first." Sometimes, you have to trust God in these matters.

There were seven young children on one apartment building roof. This was the next building to be evacuated-sort of. The crew communicated with the adults. "Children," they said, "We are here for the children."

The mommies and daddies mustered what little courage that they had left and kissed and hugged their little ones. They told their babies that all would be well. They told their children that they had to go ride in the helicopter alone. They told their babies that they would soon follow. They told their children that they would be there, soon. "Don't you worry, Honey," Mommy or Daddy said, "you go with these people and they will take care of you until I get back to you."

The helicopter lifted the buckets of children and then flew away. The parents huddled together. The parents waved good bye to their children. The wails of the parents were drowned out by the propeller. "Good bye, Baby! Good bye." Mommy called long after the helicopter was out of hearing range...long after it was out of sight.

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The line was ten miles long or was it 50? It was a mass of humanity walking toward shelter. Families marching along the road. Displaced families with nothing to their name, but the clothes on their backs. A line of refugees that is seen on television in the United States beamed from all around the world. Refugees from Tsunamis, earthquakes, war. Lines of refugees. Yet this time, the refugees in the line snaking its way toward hope is in the United States. Yes, once again images that we do not expect to see of our homeland are beamed world wide for all to see. We hang our dirty laundry out there. We show our weaknesses and our skeletons.

The line is long and it is hot. There is little if anything to eat or drink. Just keep walking, they are told. Keep moving. There is food ahead. Keep going, you will have a place to rest your head. You will have water to drink. Keep going.

In the midst of the line is a little troup of seven. The leader understands and nods his head. He keeps his group moving. "Come on," he says, "we're almost there." He doesn't know where "there" is; nor does he care. He knows that there is food, water and a bed. "They" said so. He took them at their word.

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Days later, a helicopter makes it back to the apartment building. Trip after trip is made to the building and eventually all of the adults are evacuated. They have spent countless hours worrying about their children. Where were they? Who was taking care of them? Were they alright? Now finally days later...days that seemed like years later, they would be reunited.

Hours and hours later, the adults arrive in a shelter and begin looking. Their children are no where to be found. There is no record of where they are. There is no record of when they left. Records take time to prepare. There are no records. Survivors are lucky if their names are taken at all. This time, there are no propellers to drown out the wailing mother's misery.

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The leader keeps marching and herding his group toward the promise of food, water and a bed. He keeps going. Then suddenly, like God slapped someone upside of the head, an emergency worker asks this little man who he is with and who is taking care of he and his friends. The emergency worker is stunned when the little man says that he is taking care of all of them. The little man is six years old.

Perhaps the emergency worker was clued in because he payed attention to the fact that the little man was carrying his four month old brother or perhaps the little group of children all under the age of five was straggling behind the rest of the line. No one knows for sure, but this little man kept these babies together. He kept them fed and he got diapers. For days, this little man was left on his own to care for these little children and they were all just fine.

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I have not watched the Katrina coverage. It is relentless, heartbreaking and in a way a ratings ploy. When I do catch a glimpse, I burst into tears. The humanity is just too big, but when I did catch this story, I smiled. I looked at the little boy on t.v. and smiled.

There is a lot of noise coming out of Katrina's aftermath. Accusations of racism, slow response, et cetera. And there is this huge media machine latching on to the negativity as it always does. Yes, we are sure to get our daily overdose of "awful" played loud and clear on every major news organization. However, the people involved-the people directly affected by the Katrina's wrath don't need to hear that noise. They need to hear about six year old boys who keep the little kids in his building together until they can get back to their parents. They need to hear the ending to this story-as you probably have heard- The parents and children were all reunited in San Antonio. They all ended up in the same shelter.

I do not know if it was accidental or if records were finally created that made it possible for emergency management workers to locate the families and reunite them, but I know what I know: God had a hand here. He boxed someone's ears so that the little man would get help. He put the parents in a place where they would be evacuated to the same shelter.

Yes, the system is broken, but I can tell you from experience, it is not easy to coordinate assistance during a flood. Nothing moves. Everything shuts down. The system needs to be better; yes! it does and I get that. But the victims of Katrina don't need to hear how nothing is working. They need to hear stories of hope and inspiration. They need to hear about the six year old little man and his responsibility and courage. They need to take action like he did.

The system is broken or fractured, so you have to take steps to force it to work. The six year old little man did. This story of hope will give others the courage to fight to survive. Stop focusing on what isn't working and MAKE IT HAPPEN. Make the rescue effort work. Make the little man's story the lead story and not the last 30 seconds of a newscast.

God bless the victims of the flood. I pray that they will find the hope and courage that the little man has.