Life has never been predictable, and with every tear of joy, there seems to be a tear of sorrow; for every smile, a furrowed brow. Never, in my short life, has this been truer than now. In fact, it seems there is more bad news than good in this day and age. Sometimes it seems the world has gone mad and that I am threadbare myself. I see the strain when I look in the mirror and I see it on the faces of those around me. It is in times like these that one begins to question the meaning of life.

From the war in Iraq to the devastation of Hurricane Katrina to our own problems right here in the 50th State, life is crazy right now. And if the problems are not overwhelming enough, trying to decide how to help can be just as debilitating.

I recently was lucky enough to serve as a facilitator and trainer for the "Bridge of Friendship" conference sponsored by Na Lei Aloha. One of the guest speakers was Coralie Chun Matayoshi, CEO of Hawai'i's chapter of the American Red Cross. She had just returned from Louisiana and was kind enough to share her experiences with the conference attendees.

I half expected her to recount tales of horror, much like the 6 o'clock news, but for all the devastation she witnessed, she also found grace.

Hers was a message of hope, of people helping people. And I must say that just before I got onstage myself, hope was the one thing I needed most — not the kind of hope to get me through the training, for I knew the training would go well. I needed hope for my world, for my family and friends, for myself.

Like Red Cross workers around the world, Coralie threw out a life preserver and I grabbed on. In that moment I knew what I had to do. I had to take care of my family, and in doing so, I would help take care of my community.

So, bright and early the next day, my family headed to the corner market to restock our emergency kits, change our old and unused batteries, and refill our food stores. With several storm systems looming in the distance, preparedness seemed the best and only answer for my troubled mind. I exercised what little control I had and hoped that in preparing for the worst, I would be ready to help when need called.

We are all vulnerable, but if Katrina and every other disaster, natural or human-made, has taught us anything, it is that in times of crisis our most vulnerable will pay most dearly.

My preparedness will not end poverty and hunger, nor will it heal the sick or help the frail and elderly, but it may assure that those with the greatest needs in fact get their needs met. Still, every day is a disaster for some and we must do for our most vulnerable on a daily basis what we do for ourselves in times of crisis. It is not enough to help out in times of famine; we must help in times of feast and in doing so reduce the vulnerability for all of our people.

If we want to really avert disaster, we must think in grander scale. It is not realistic to ask someone who is starving today to store away food for tomorrow. Sad as it may seem, if we treated each day as if it were our last then perhaps we would act for the greater good of everyone. Now that would make for a real disaster plan.

Michael DeMattos is on faculty at the University of Hawai'i School of Social Work. He lives in Kane'ohe with his wife, daughter and two dogs.