lost . . .

Not the season finale of the sci-fi drama last week. Much worse. Last Wednesday at 11:20 (playgroup ends at 11:30,) we received a knock on the door. I said excitedly to Drew, "Who is it?" When I opened the door, a stranger stood there holding Joe. It's funny how you have to pause as your brain tries to wrap itself around exactly what's going on. The woman said Joe had been running west on Holladay Boulevard, approaching the intersection with Highland Drive (which, if you aren't familiar with east Salt Lake is a busy street.) She picked him up and he told her how to get to our apartment. When she finished, my mind was reeling, and I took Joe in my arms and hugged him tight.
He had been running in bare feet, and I wanted to know what happened, so I strapped the kids in their carseats and hustled to the playgroup host's home. As I was pulling out, my good friend Katia pulled in, frantic, saying, "Do you have Joseph?" I assured her I did, and she said, "I have to go tell Jane (we'll call her that so no one curses her real name,) she's so worried." I felt upset - thinking 'What does she have to be upset over, it's my son?!' When we arrived she gave me a big hug, and this was her story: The kids had been playing in the front yard - which I knew when I dropped him off. There's no fence, but she was with them. Joe asked for some food because he was hungry. She said, "And I'd been in and out, because I had to take care of my kids, too." She went inside to prepare a snack, and when she came back out, Joser was gone. She panicked. She made several calls because she felt like she couldn't leave all the other kids alone. My phone was turned off. So then, enter stranger stage left.
Jane called me later that day, stating she'd been feeling sick all day. She asked if I was okay, if Joe was okay, etc. I said, "I'm sure this happens once or twice to most kids." She then proceeded to tell me about a time when she'd lost her oldest child.
I experienced so many emotions, as you may have as you read this narrative. Last, and most lasting is gratitude. Although, when I repeat the story, I have angst and upset again. Gratitude for God's protection of His precious children. Either no cars came or they saw Joseph and drove around him. The stranger could have been a predator. The stranger could have snatched him and demanded ransom. Joe could have not remembered where he lives. The stranger could have called 9-1-1 and I could have received a phone call from the local sheriff's office. Sigh. God loves him, and He loves me. He's home safe, and I haven't hugged him as much in his whole life as I have this past week. Man, those 'motherly instincts' are so intense!