Well, my brain is chocked full of cluttered thoughts to share... none of which are fully formed thanks to lots of good sun and adult onset allergies.
Today I was at a local park, an old favorite from my childhood filled with tons and tons of wonderful memories. My kids were playing with friends, celebrating the birthday of one.
A regular afternoon when tragedy struck just a little too close...
A boy was missing. Not one of our boys, but a boy who was at the park with his grandfather and brother. Grandpa turned away for a second and his two and a half year old grandson was just...gone.
People from another birthday party fanned out. A few from our party...looking in trees, trashcans, bathrooms...scouring the adjacent neighborhood. Everyone seemed so calm in the midst of it, but I know that inside I was screaming.
I thought of the call to the parents, the guilt of the grandfather, of the brother who would always know they had been playing together. I made the connection to the boy being about the same age as my youngest boy. Inside I broke. Now I am sure the people with me reading this are thinking "Huh? She didn't seem all that invested actually." But inside I imagined losing another child and I just broke.
Within about 15 minutes the park was surrounded and swarming with police. It's been said before, but police in that city, they just don't mess around.
So we, at the party, gathered together and prayed. What more could we do? We didn't see the boy, there were probably 20-30 people already on foot...so we prayed.
When I spotted a mail truck I went to check with him, grateful for a few seconds alone just walking over. He'd seen nothing. But Thank You Jesus, while I was talking to the mailman, the boy was spotted just wandering a few streets over.
The police picked him up and brought him back to grandpa, we took him some water, and settled into a nice relaxing party. One where our own children were constantly counted and recounted...and told to stay just a little bit closer.
Today I was at a local park, an old favorite from my childhood filled with tons and tons of wonderful memories. My kids were playing with friends, celebrating the birthday of one.
A regular afternoon when tragedy struck just a little too close...
A boy was missing. Not one of our boys, but a boy who was at the park with his grandfather and brother. Grandpa turned away for a second and his two and a half year old grandson was just...gone.
People from another birthday party fanned out. A few from our party...looking in trees, trashcans, bathrooms...scouring the adjacent neighborhood. Everyone seemed so calm in the midst of it, but I know that inside I was screaming.
I thought of the call to the parents, the guilt of the grandfather, of the brother who would always know they had been playing together. I made the connection to the boy being about the same age as my youngest boy. Inside I broke. Now I am sure the people with me reading this are thinking "Huh? She didn't seem all that invested actually." But inside I imagined losing another child and I just broke.
Within about 15 minutes the park was surrounded and swarming with police. It's been said before, but police in that city, they just don't mess around.
So we, at the party, gathered together and prayed. What more could we do? We didn't see the boy, there were probably 20-30 people already on foot...so we prayed.
When I spotted a mail truck I went to check with him, grateful for a few seconds alone just walking over. He'd seen nothing. But Thank You Jesus, while I was talking to the mailman, the boy was spotted just wandering a few streets over.
The police picked him up and brought him back to grandpa, we took him some water, and settled into a nice relaxing party. One where our own children were constantly counted and recounted...and told to stay just a little bit closer.
