Do Me a Favor

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Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Little Girl Lost

Mom and my sister Linda were at home.  Daddy and I were at our church (Trinity UMC in Huntsville, AL).  We both thought the children’s choir was going to perform during the worship service.  For some reason, Daddy left the church and went home.  He said he’d be back to pick me up.

Anyway, there I was, a 3rd grader in 1960, finding my way to the choir room where I found -- nobody.  My children’s choir was not singing in the service that day.

I didn’t know what to do.  We were new members of the church and I knew only a few of the kids by name.  One of the other parents offered to let me sit with them.  But it was going to be communion, and I didn’t know how to go down front unless I was with my parents.  I was getting panicky at the thought of not being with my mom and dad because they always knew what to do.

I was scared and felt so alone. 

I finally decided that I would walk home.  Except I didn’t know exactly where home was.  I knew that if I walked down Airport Road and hung a right onto the Parkway, it was just a little ways down there somewhere.

So I started out.  It was winter, and the wind was blowing.  I quickly got really cold. 

But I was determined to get to where I was going, so I trudged on.  I had a new coat on that looked (to me, anyway) like Little Joe’s horse on Bonanza.  So I talked to that coat (remember, I’m in 3rd grade) and assured it that we would eventually get home.

I was scared and felt so alone.

I remember that a car stopped.  A woman was at the wheel.  She opened the passenger side door and I saw a couple of kids in there.  She asked me if I was all right.  I said I was.  She asked me where I was going.  I told her home.  She asked if I was lost.  I said no, I knew the way.  She invited me into her car, but I couldn’t get in a stranger’s car.  That was wrong, and I wasn’t going to do it.  She finally and very reluctantly drove away. 

I was scared and felt so alone.

Then, after some more trudging and what felt like hours going by, another car stopped.  This one had a policeman in it.  He was very nice, asked the same questions the woman had.  And when he said to get in his car, I knew it was okay because he was a policeman and he was there to help me.

He asked my name and address.  My name I could handle, but I didn’t know my address.  We had moved recently from one side of town to the other.  I could get him to the old house but not to the new one. 

I think it was then that it hit me.  I was truly lost.  I didn’t know where my family was and I didn’t know where my house was.  I started to cry.  Not loud and dramatic, just sniffling a little bit, trying to keep it together and be a big girl.

I had a vague notion of where the house was.  I knew it was close to Redstone Arsenal.  The cop pulled onto Bob Wallace Avenue and headed in that direction.

And then I saw my dad, driving toward us.  I pointed to our car and yelled, “That’s my daddy!  That’s my daddy!”  The cop slammed on the brakes and pulled over.

Daddy saw me as I pointed to him.  He slammed on his brakes and pulled over. 

And I joyfully ran across the road and into the open arms of my Father. 

I was lost but now I’m found.

Sound familiar?

6 comments:

  1. WONDERful, Carol! A great reminder of how lost we can be....
    AND how found!
    (and I've been known to still speak to articles of clothing)

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  2. Love this! There's nothing like running into the arms of Daddy . . . . earthly AND Heavenly!!!

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  3. great job. davy

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