Heroes

Walking through Concourse D at Louis Armstrong Airport, I spotted a little boy, who appeared to be 7 or 8, in a wheelchair, escorted by a smiling gentleman in his mid 60s. I wondered to myself what their story was. Why the wheelchair for the boy and why a man his age with him? And I thought, “I wouldn’t mind sitting next to them in an airplane."

I waited at gate D5 until my name was called by the agent for my seat assignment: 7F. Once again, I spotted the man and the boy. As before, the man had a smile on his face and was conversing with people around him.

I entered the airplane along with group 3, counting the rows to get to 7, then looked up to find my window seat, and already sitting in my row, you guessed it, that man and the little boy. Conner was the little boy. Paul was his grandpa.

Over the next 2 hours, I did get their story. Connor has Muscular Dystrophy, a genetic disease that causes degeneration in skeletal voluntary muscles. The prognosis is not good. I thought he was 7 or 8, but he’s 12. And his grandpa told me that he will probably live into his early teens. My heart sank as I quietly prayed for him.

Then Paul told me the rest of his story. The boy’s mom, Paul’s daughter, is an addict, and unable to care for him. So 6 years ago, shortly after Connor’s diagnosis, he cashed in his retirement early, and devoted himself full-time to his grandson. Then, his wife of 34 years, the boy's grandma, left. So for the past 6 years, it’s been Paul and Connor.

Paul was a successful business man. He loves Harleys and has 4 of them. But they're for sale now since he no longer has the time to ride. He flies around the country with Connor, looking for any hope from specialists or experimental medicine, so far to no avail. A little over a year ago, he found a church in Baton Rouge that offers ministry to children with disabilities and their parents. He started bringing Connor, and there, God became very real to both of them.

There’s more to their story, but not enough space here to tell it. I walked out of that aircraft yesterday with new perspective. I have no troubles, no concerns, comparatively. I met an older man and a young boy who do, but seem that they could not be happier. And I began to thank God for every-day heroes. Heroes like Paul who do whatever it takes to fulfill their responsibility day in and day out, to honor God and bless others. I’ve never been into Batman, Superman or the Avengers. But I’m all about guys like Paul, who live their lives not for what they can get out of it, but for what they can put into others.

Every day heroes. The real ones are all around us if we look for them.