Where You Found Me

As a parent, there are no words to begin to describe the terror that grips your soul when you can't find your child. And as a parent of three kiddos who are close in age, I experienced that feeling more than once during the years when they were young. I don't know if the kids remember those times, but I sure do ... I sure do. One of those instances involved Bradley, and for some reason, that particular time has been on my mind a lot lately. In fact, I've thought about it so much that I could even tell you the clothes that Brad had on the afternoon that it happened. Obviously, the event left a huge imprint on my brain at the time it occurred, and obviously, the fact that God keeps bringing it back to the forefront of my conscious thinking must mean that there's still a lesson for me in it. That's just like God, you know, to bring something back to our hearts and minds that happened a long time ago so that He can teach us another truth or lesson ... that's just like Him.

Brad was the one of my kids who could sleep anywhere when he was little, as long as he had his yellow blanket and his pacie. He could sleep on the floor, in the car, outside in the grass ... you name a spot, and my Bradley could sleep there. So I suppose that what happened that afternoon so many years ago shouldn't have surprised me ... or frightened me to death either. Matt, Brad and Meghann had been playing downstairs in our finished basement, the basement that was the ultimate playroom for little kids. Their dad built them this giant wooden thing that was half little boy-sized fort and half little-girl sized dollhouse. They had one of those big plastic jungle gyms with a slide, and a plastic workshop and plastic kitchen. One whole wall of the basement was lined with shelves to hold all their toys, and they had a little cubby under the stairs that they turned into the Lego room. It really was an awesome place for the kiddos to play, and they spent countless hours in that basement when they were young. It was late afternoon when I went downstairs to take them some snacks and discovered that Brad wasn't in the basement with Matt and Meghann. When I asked them where he was, Matt said that Brad got mad and went upstairs a while ago.

I went upstairs to check in his room ... no Brad. I went from bedroom to bedroom ... no Brad. I went through the family room, office, dining room, laundry room, kitchen, closets and the bathrooms ... no Brad. I went to the garage and out in the yard ... no Brad. By then, the terror and panic began to engulf me as I again went from room to room calling Brad's name ... no Brad. Now the thing about Brad when he was little? He would get mad and pout for a really long time. It would have been so like him to have been hiding somewhere, waiting to jump out and scare me when I walked by. I'm not sure how long it was until I found Brad, but by the time I did, I was frantic ... and actually, it was Matt who discovered him curled up with his blanket in a tiny little space between the wall and the china cabinet in the dining room. My little middle kiddo had simply crawled into what he considered to be a good spot and taken a nap, completely oblivious to my search or my overwhelming fear that some harm had befallen him.

So here's the thing ... in Brad's mind, he was just sleeping ... he wasn't lost at all, he was just mad and tired and sleepy. In this mother's mind, however, my son was missing ... perhaps wounded or frightened, but he was definitely lost. A song on a CD this morning caused me to think once again about the scene with Brad ... when I found him, I scooped him into my arms and carried him into the family room, sat in the recliner, and rocked my little boy found. And as I did, you can be assured that I shed many a tear of gratitude that he was safe within my arms. Now later, I had a stern chat with Brad about telling me before he decided to curl up and snooze somewhere, but at that moment, I was beyond thankful that my lost son had been found.

I think that's the way it is with me and God sometimes ... I don't realize how lost I am. I think I'm simply tired of the trials of life, or I work myself into a tight spot and want to close my eyes, not even attempt to get out and just go to sleep. I wrap myself in my blanket and feel all safe and cozy, and then, before I know it, I'm asleep and have no clue that God has been searching for me and calling out my name. God knows I need to be found, and I don't even recognize that I'm lost because I'm asleep in my little tight spot ... whoa ... there's a powerful lesson there for me ... friends, and maybe for some of you as well.

"Lost is where You found me
Shattered and frail
But You love me still
Trouble may surround me
My heart may fail
But You never will
You never will.

You lifted me out
You lifted me out
And set me dancing, dancing
Free, now I am free
Your love rescued me
Now it's the anthem I'm singing."