I Should Have Known Better

Following an early doctor's appointment this morning, I went to the grocery store. I went to the grocery store like I do most Saturday mornings. I don't like going to the grocery store, but if I want to keep breathing I have to eat. And if I have to eat, I have two choices ... go the grocery store to buy food or eat out for every meal. Since I can't afford to eat out all the time and I have no desire to frequent restaurants alone, I go to the grocery store. I went to the grocery store this morning like I do most Saturday mornings in the winter months ... dressed in jeans, a thermal shirt, black and white Converse shoes, and a ball cap. And as often happens when I go to the grocery store on Saturday mornings, at least one or two little kids say hi or wave to me when I pass them in the aisles. There may be a lot of adults who don't like me, but little kids flipping love me for some reason. But this morning ... this morning, there was this one little girl ... a little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes who looked to be about the age of my granddaughter C.J.

Each time I passed her and her dad, the little girl would giggle and reach her arms toward me, causing me to smile and wish I were in Canada shopping with C.J. I was focused on reading the label on a container of mustard when I felt two little arms grab my leg, and I looked down to see two big blue eyes beneath a crown of blonde hair looking up at me. The little girl giggled as she raised her hands and said, "Hold Gamma," causing tears to immediately spring to my eyes. I said, "Where's your daddy, little one?" certain he must be nearby. As much as I love kids, even I'm not stupid enough to pick up a child I don't know in the middle of the grocery store. Even if she did call me Gamma. Even I'm not that stupid ... sheesh. I turned and looked down the aisle in both directions and suddenly realized the little girl's dad was nowhere in sight. I patted her on the head and said again, "Where's your daddy, honey?" This time, she raised her hands, stomped her little feet, stuck out her bottom lip and yelped, "Hold Gamma!!!" I stood there wondering what to do ... wondering how in the world this kid escaped from her dad ... wondering where in the world he was ... wondering why in the heck the little girl had latched onto me. And then ... then she puckered up and started to cry. And I reached down and lifted her into my arms and said, "It's okay, baby ... let's go find your daddy." 

By the time we reached the end of the aisle, the little girl was laughing, patting my cheeks, pulling my glasses and hat off, as she chanted, "Hi, Gamma, hi, Gamma, hi, Gamma!!" And just as I turned the corner on my way to customer service, thinking that's where I would go if I lost my kid, I heard the voice of a man shouting his daughter's name and asking if anyone had seen his little girl. I could hear him, but I couldn't see him, so I did the only thing I could think of to do ... I yelled as loudly as I could and said, "She's right here ... she's safe ... we're by the apples!!!" Though I'd like to say I never lost one of my own children, I did ... more than once, actually ... and I well remember the terrifying sense of panic when I realized they were missing and the overwhelming feeling of relief when I found them. As the dad came running up, tears streaming down his face, he wrapped his arms around both me and his daughter, as he said, "Oh, God ... oh, God ... oh, God ... thank you ... thank you ... thank you. God bless you, lady ... God bless you."

As the once terrified and now relieved father gathered his little girl into his arms, he explained to me that his daughter Kate is an escape artist, a climber and faster than lightning. I smiled as I assured the young man that it had happened to the best of us as parents, telling him each one of my three had gotten away from me when they were little. Kate giggled and again said, "Hi, Gamma!" as she reached her hand toward my cap. I laughed and said, "She reminds me of my little granddaughter who lives in Canada, and I guess I must look like her Gamma." The father's shoulders drooped as he said quietly, "You do look like her Gamma ... my mom ... she died a couple of months ago. Kate saw her every day ... she was her only grandmother." I hugged the young man as he thanked me again for rescuing his little girl ... and then he said something else ... something he could have never known would impact me the way it did. He said, "I should have known better  ... I should have known better. She's unbuckled the belt and climbed out of the cart so many times. I should have known better than to turn my head even for a minute. I'm the world's worst dad ... I should have known better. I'm just so grateful it was someone as kind as you who found her."

Those words have been pounding in my brain ever since the young man spoke them ... I should have known better ... I should have known better ... I should have known better. How many times I've said those very words to myself ... how many stupid things I've done in my lifetime ... how many times I've failed miserably as a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a mother, a grandmother, a friend ... how many, many, many times I should have known better. I can so relate to what the young father felt this morning ... the last few days have been difficult ones for me. Days when I feel like I should have known better ... days when I feel like I've lost what is most precious to me ... days when I feel like I've failed those who love me and depend on me ... days when I feel like I should have known better, done better, been better, loved better, lived better. 

But then this morning ... this morning ... this morning ... but then this morning happened. A little girl lost ... a young, frantic father. I didn't find little Kate in the grocery story this morning, friends ... she found me.