missing

We just had a great morning on the beach. Nathan was feeling better after an evening of throwing up. It was overcast and not too hot. Lots of waves and seaweed floating in the water, but the waves made for good body-boarding and the seaweed, well, it kept me out of the water.

At one point we had all been doing something with Nathan and looked up at didn’t see Sarah. Of course, I just started reading The Shack yesterday, so my heart was up in my throat and my stomach was down in my feet (or maybe it was the other way around). But somehow I kept my wits about me and spotted her quickly after a walk down the beach. The current had carried her down a bit without anyone realizing it. We all had a lesson on what the currents do. All was well.

We spent all morning and towards the end of our time, the sun finally came out. But I could see the thunder clouds building in the distance. They were the big tall puffy ones that look like the Empire State Building towering in the distance. I knew the rain must be coming. So while Mike took Nathan back to the condo, we stayed longer with Sarah to enjoy the sun and surf a while longer before the rain rolled on in.

We finally came on in and cleaned up and had some lunch and were looking at the radar on weather.com to try to figure out whether or not to plan on going back out on the beach or to go to the Naval Aviation Museum in Pensacola.

Then I heard it.

The ice cream truck.

It’s funny that our poor children didn’t even flinch at the sound of the tinkey Music Box Dancer sound coming down the street. You see, we don’t ever have ice cream trucks in our neighborhood. I found it to be a travesty that Mike his mom and I all heard it and knew exactly what it was, but my children did not. So, what did I do?

“Hey, kids, do y’all want some ice cream from the ice cream truck?”

We ran outside, and made it to him before he pulled away. Sarah and Nathan both got Dora popsicles and, of course, the adults all got something as well. That’s when the ice cream truck driver told us…

We had noticed on our way out that there was a fire engine just up the street, maybe a hundred yards away. He said that they’re looking for a missing little boy; to keep an eye out for him. Blue swimsuit. Blond hair. 6 ½ years old. Lucas.

Once again, my heart was in my throat and my stomach in my toes. What must those parents be doing? Feeling? I’ve felt it before. At the World War II Memorial in Washington DC when Sarah wandered off. At home when the pest control guys were there going in and out and up in the attic and all of the sudden I couldn’t find Nathan (he was 1 at the time) and he had wandered into my bathroom and closed the door. And just earlier that day there on that very same beach.

Your heart is racing. Your eyes are darting around looking everywhere. Your hands grab your head as you feel like it is about to explode.

Every mother and father on the beach that knows about it is collectively holding their breath with those parents just praying he is found.

Then, as we were headed back across the street, I saw her. A precious mother running across the street to take her once lost son into her arms.

To say that the sight of it was emotional for me is an understatement. And I can safely bet that she will want to hold him in her arms the rest of the day. I know that I would.