We pulled up into the parking lot and piled out of the car. First stop was an emergency nappy change on Baby and the boys waited by the high heap of bags, balls and other picnic paraphernalia. Thanks to the new style of nappy we're sporting these days, the change was all vertical and completed quicker than usual. Score. By the time I returned to the boys, we had found some more friends and started our walk over to the neighbourhood park.
Upon arrival, the kids immediately set off towards the slide, leaving all the bags and bits right on the ground where they'd previously stood. So we doubled up on the lugging and trudged our way to the communal blanket area. Once there, I stopped to do a head count and the others Mom's laughed at my 3-kids check list. I didn't take notice of their amusement, being so used to this MO already.
Our morning time started with a Welcome Song, followed by a Story and then a Craft. All the kids did well to participate, despite their increasing excitement - in anticipation of a Hunt! Finally it was time to search for chocolate covered treasures and a long line of three to six year olds hopped behind a make belief Easter Bunny-Mummy. The other parents got up to grab a snack or stretch their legs, while some lay back on the blanket and enjoyed just a few moments of uninterrupted sky gazing. Ah, Autumn Picnics...
I started talking OMTOM race results and logistics with another Mom, quickly scanning the area and completing my head count. One child was putting the finishing touches on her "Quacky" craft, another was skimming down the slide in glee and my Son was on the merry-go-round - going around but not looking particularly merry about it.
We continued our dissection of the past weekend's race and I had just started a new catch up conversation with another Mom, when someone asked me where my Son was, and when I looked to where I'd last seen him...he was gone.
I politely excused myself from the chat and walked towards the merry-go-round, expecting him to be on it or behind it by the (short, see through) hedge - both of which could not possibly be true, but I walked there anyway. I stood on the one corner of the park and scanned the area. I walked back to the middle and asked a few more people if they'd seen him - convinced that he was still in the park but hidden from my sight only. Feeling the panic starting to grow in me, I left my two-thirds with the group and I walked back to the merry-go-round for a second time. I ventured just outside of the perimeter wall and looking down the empty street, shook myself into realising that I could not see my Son.
Now in a rush, I went back to the group and found that five or so of the adults had mobilised and set off in different directions looking for him. The park had never seemed so accessible before. I ran towards the public toilets and almost let my anxiety get the better of me when I asked the maintenance lady if she'd seen a child come in. Banging on the door, calling his name, forcing open areas that were probably locked for years before I'd come along. I'm still grateful that my urgency didn't ruin my decency. My mind raced to his black and blue striped shorts, and matching black vest. His birthmark - was that the right or left leg? The funny dent in his ear. Was he still wearing his slip slops...Is he cold? Can he hear us calling him? Why can't he just come out from where he is? I was now in full blown panic and did not know what to do.
I followed some of the search party up the Avenues and then came back again realising that it was not useful. I grabbed my phone with the hopelessly low battery and in complete denial, asked myself at which point I'd call my Dear Husband to tell him that I could not find our Son.
A friend crossing paths with me, called out that she was going to get the local neighbourhood watch on board. As she started dialling, I heard her mutter prayers and pleas. I'd like to say that they were calming and confident. But her plea was as real as the one begging in my heart. I watched the remaining adults huddle around the little ones like a human fort. Some older kids on the other side played still, unaware of what was happening, while their parents called out for my missing Son. This was a real, live search. I was searching for ...my Son.
As I bellowed his name for the umpteenth time in the longest ten minutes of my life, I heard my voice crack but a call from the opposite corner of the park echoed towards me. "We-'ve fou-nd h-im! We have fou-nd h-im!"
I would've fallen to the ground if it wasn't for a school friend standing close by that caught me in her embrace. I clung on tightly, overcome with relief and quite possibly mental exhaustion. Then composing myself, I walked towards the direction of my Son and his Finder and as I followed the bend in the road and cast my eyes on him I got down on my knees - signifying both gratitude and consolation. He is found.
The rest of the morning swirls into one mass of emotions. There were tears and questions. Try as I may, this six year old just could not fully comprehend what his actions had produced. In his mind he was just taking a walk back to the parking lot (three roads away). The scenes in my head still haunt me.
As we walked back to the park hand tightly in-hand, I asked him to accompany me as we thanked the group for helping me search - the parents, the casual park goers...even a local jogger that came back to check and knew him by name now! I did that more for me than anyone else. And by the time we got home, all 1-2- and 3 safe and sound, my head hurt only slightly more than my bruised heart.
The thought of losing my Son was simply bigger than I could comprehend. More gut-wrenching than anything I would ever want to even come close to feeling again. Frightened and distressed as I battled the unknown. Praying for relief and reconciliation.
A similar occurrence of separation and anguish comes to mind and I don't count it coincidental. The story of Easter draws our focus to the love between the Father and His Son, the Father and Creation, the Sacrifice and Separation, but ultimately, the Resurrection and Reconciliation. Lost and then Found. A particularly happy ending that nothing could ever compare to.
Remembering this, with gratitude.
Happy Easter xx
Upon arrival, the kids immediately set off towards the slide, leaving all the bags and bits right on the ground where they'd previously stood. So we doubled up on the lugging and trudged our way to the communal blanket area. Once there, I stopped to do a head count and the others Mom's laughed at my 3-kids check list. I didn't take notice of their amusement, being so used to this MO already.
Our morning time started with a Welcome Song, followed by a Story and then a Craft. All the kids did well to participate, despite their increasing excitement - in anticipation of a Hunt! Finally it was time to search for chocolate covered treasures and a long line of three to six year olds hopped behind a make belief Easter Bunny-Mummy. The other parents got up to grab a snack or stretch their legs, while some lay back on the blanket and enjoyed just a few moments of uninterrupted sky gazing. Ah, Autumn Picnics...
I started talking OMTOM race results and logistics with another Mom, quickly scanning the area and completing my head count. One child was putting the finishing touches on her "Quacky" craft, another was skimming down the slide in glee and my Son was on the merry-go-round - going around but not looking particularly merry about it.
We continued our dissection of the past weekend's race and I had just started a new catch up conversation with another Mom, when someone asked me where my Son was, and when I looked to where I'd last seen him...he was gone.
I politely excused myself from the chat and walked towards the merry-go-round, expecting him to be on it or behind it by the (short, see through) hedge - both of which could not possibly be true, but I walked there anyway. I stood on the one corner of the park and scanned the area. I walked back to the middle and asked a few more people if they'd seen him - convinced that he was still in the park but hidden from my sight only. Feeling the panic starting to grow in me, I left my two-thirds with the group and I walked back to the merry-go-round for a second time. I ventured just outside of the perimeter wall and looking down the empty street, shook myself into realising that I could not see my Son.
Now in a rush, I went back to the group and found that five or so of the adults had mobilised and set off in different directions looking for him. The park had never seemed so accessible before. I ran towards the public toilets and almost let my anxiety get the better of me when I asked the maintenance lady if she'd seen a child come in. Banging on the door, calling his name, forcing open areas that were probably locked for years before I'd come along. I'm still grateful that my urgency didn't ruin my decency. My mind raced to his black and blue striped shorts, and matching black vest. His birthmark - was that the right or left leg? The funny dent in his ear. Was he still wearing his slip slops...Is he cold? Can he hear us calling him? Why can't he just come out from where he is? I was now in full blown panic and did not know what to do.
I followed some of the search party up the Avenues and then came back again realising that it was not useful. I grabbed my phone with the hopelessly low battery and in complete denial, asked myself at which point I'd call my Dear Husband to tell him that I could not find our Son.
A friend crossing paths with me, called out that she was going to get the local neighbourhood watch on board. As she started dialling, I heard her mutter prayers and pleas. I'd like to say that they were calming and confident. But her plea was as real as the one begging in my heart. I watched the remaining adults huddle around the little ones like a human fort. Some older kids on the other side played still, unaware of what was happening, while their parents called out for my missing Son. This was a real, live search. I was searching for ...my Son.
As I bellowed his name for the umpteenth time in the longest ten minutes of my life, I heard my voice crack but a call from the opposite corner of the park echoed towards me. "We-'ve fou-nd h-im! We have fou-nd h-im!"
I would've fallen to the ground if it wasn't for a school friend standing close by that caught me in her embrace. I clung on tightly, overcome with relief and quite possibly mental exhaustion. Then composing myself, I walked towards the direction of my Son and his Finder and as I followed the bend in the road and cast my eyes on him I got down on my knees - signifying both gratitude and consolation. He is found.
The rest of the morning swirls into one mass of emotions. There were tears and questions. Try as I may, this six year old just could not fully comprehend what his actions had produced. In his mind he was just taking a walk back to the parking lot (three roads away). The scenes in my head still haunt me.
As we walked back to the park hand tightly in-hand, I asked him to accompany me as we thanked the group for helping me search - the parents, the casual park goers...even a local jogger that came back to check and knew him by name now! I did that more for me than anyone else. And by the time we got home, all 1-2- and 3 safe and sound, my head hurt only slightly more than my bruised heart.
The thought of losing my Son was simply bigger than I could comprehend. More gut-wrenching than anything I would ever want to even come close to feeling again. Frightened and distressed as I battled the unknown. Praying for relief and reconciliation.
A similar occurrence of separation and anguish comes to mind and I don't count it coincidental. The story of Easter draws our focus to the love between the Father and His Son, the Father and Creation, the Sacrifice and Separation, but ultimately, the Resurrection and Reconciliation. Lost and then Found. A particularly happy ending that nothing could ever compare to.
Remembering this, with gratitude.
Happy Easter xx
I can see this so clearly as you write it. Thank God for keeping him safe - and for finding us all.
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