But Jesus
said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such
is the kingdom of heaven.”
─Matthew
19:14
It’s taken
me months to write about this. In fact, it was so upsetting to me that I didn’t
even journal about it. But in light of this nation’s recent tragedies, I think
it’s time to share my brush with child loss that occurred sometime this last
summer.
It was a beautiful,
blazingly hot day, I think sometime in August. My youngest son, Caleb, and I
decided to head to Keizer Rapids Park, the nearest hiking opportunity. We
both love to hike, especially if there’s some water involved, which at this
park is the Willamette River. There’s
also lots of foliage and ample places for evil to lurk and hide. Of course such
a suspicious thought didn’t occur to me until after I couldn’t find Caleb.
The Dirt Slide
We were at
the back part of the park nearing the edge of paved portion of the trail. The
pavement gave way to dirt paths strewn with river rock and tall, brown grasses
growing along the sides of the path. Just before the pavement ends was a side
trail, it was dirt and very steep but relatively short. It led to a landing
very close to the river’s edge. Caleb wanted to go down this trail because it
looked like fun. And why not, it was like a natural slide, what little boy
wouldn’t want to slide down such a cool dirt slide. I figured it was okay and
I’d follow right behind him. However, kneeling down to ready myself for the slide,
my neck ached reminding me that such a jaunt would be unwise with a tender
triple fusion. So I told Caleb to stay right where he was at the foot of the
path while I went around to a less challenging path not 30 seconds away.
“Okay, Dad,”
he said.
So I hustled
off to the other path that cut through a dense blackberry thicket and came out
right where Caleb should have been.
But he was
gone.
At first I
was perturbed thinking he was just hiding somewhere, but he was nowhere to be
found in the nearby bushes. I quickly scanned the landing area and saw nothing
but grass, dirt, and the river. Now the first tendrils of panic started tugging
at the fringes of conscious thought. I wanted to yell out his name but didn’t,
thinking that if he were safe I didn’t want to alert any would-be pedophiles
that a little boy was running around unattended.
I shot up
the steep path, slipping, falling, and clawing my way to the top. Nothing, no
Caleb. I ran the steps I had trod thinking maybe he misunderstood my
instructions and followed me down the other path. But circling back to where he
should have been again turned up nothing.
Not My Child
Now I began
fighting back visions of calling in an Amber Alert. Not my little boy, not my
family, no way, this is not happening! I rebuke those thoughts. Still they kept
flashing like sinister light bulbs of a demonic paparazzi. Amber Alert, Amber
Alert, Amber Alert…
Statistically
I know that the first 20 minutes of a child abduction are the most
critical. So far I calculated we had
clicked off five minutes and still no blonde haired, hazel eyed little boy. I
ran to the river’s edge but saw and heard no thrashing. There was a teenage boy
on a rocky outcropping looking like he was crawdadding. I called out to him.
“Hey, hey
you,” he looked my way. “Have you seen a little blonde boy running along the
edge?” I’m sure he could hear the desperation in my voice.
“No, man;
sorry. Haven’t seen anyone ‘cept you.”
“Okay,
thanks.”
Oh God, I
need You now..WHERE IS MY LITTLE BOY?? You’ve got to help me!!
Panic was
becoming very real now through a pounding pulse, sweaty palms and horrible
thoughts of what evil could be unleashed on such an innocent soul. “No,” I
screamed to myself. I had to stay calm; I had to stay as focused as possible if
I had any hope of seeing my little boy alive and in my arms again.
Along with
agonizing prayer I also had a Building 429 lyric repeating in my mind; for some
reason, I found the lyric calming, helping me remain focused on the unfolding
tragedy:
“All
I know is I’m not home yet/This is not where I belong. Take this world and give
me Jesus/This is not where I belong.”
Another
refrain from the song also echoed over the Amber Alert fears:
“When
the earth shakes, I wanna be found in You/When the lights fade, I wanna be
found in You.”
I started
running down all the nearby paths, but there were so many, how was I to choose
the right one? If I took path A and the pedophile took path B, I may very well
never see Caleb again. O God, where do I go?
I broke down
and started yelling his name at the top of my lungs, “Caleb, Caleb, where are
you? Caleb?” I figured bad guys might now know he’s unattended but then so would
any good guys—if there were any. Normal adults are always willing to help a
lost child, aren’t they?
Mom
Coming up on
fifteen minutes and still no Caleb I was confronted with the crushing decision
to call the police, or worse, Janey (my bride and Caleb’s Mom). It was the
worst phone call I’ve ever had to make.
“Hello,” she
answered in her typically sweet voice. I’m sure she was expecting to hear that
we had a good time and were heading home. Instead, she heard,
“We’re still
at Keizer Rapids and Caleb’s missing.”
“What?! What
do you mean?”
I was
running down different paths while talking to her, so my voice was breathless
and jerky. “I mean we got separated and I can’t find him. He’s missing and I
can’t find him.”
What would
you do if you got this phone call? Right in the middle of grocery shopping with
her mother she dropped everything, “I’m coming there right now.”
“Okay, if he
isn’t with me by then, we’ll have to call the police.”
Silence, she
was on her way. So I kept running down
forest lined trails and grass lined trails. I went near the river hoping not to
find a body and then running back toward the forested area of the park.
Breathless,
I came up to a woman on the paved path walking her large dog.
“Have
you…have you seen a little blonde boy with an explorers vest on,” I panted.
Pulling her
dog a little closer she said, “Yeah, I saw him near the parking lot. He smiled
and said ‘hi’ to me. …”
She kept
talking but I started sprinting, calling a quick “Thank you” over my shoulder
as I quickly decided which trail was the quickest to parking lot, which was
close to a mile away.
Now because
of my neck fusion, I don’t sprint anymore, it’s too much jolting on the fusion
site; but fusion be damned, I sprinted faster than I’ve probably ever sprinted
before. Panting and sweating, I was also yelling his name, “I’m coming Caleb,
Daddy’s coming.”
Sweet Reunion
Rounding
past the last corner on side of the amphitheater I saw him at the top of the
grassy hill bordering the back part of the theater bowl. Seeing me he started
running my way—his eyes wide with fright. I grabbed him, hugging him as hard as
I safely could without knocking him over or squeezing his air out. He was
sobbing, I was sobbing.
“I’m sorry,
Daddy, I’m sorry,” he gasped, his little body shaking in my arms.
“It’s okay,
Caleb, it’s okay. We’re together now, we’re together now; praise God.”
We hugged
and cried. People walking by just stared at us, having no clue about the drama
that had been playing out right under their noses. I called Janey, a wonderful,
relieving phone call!
“I FOUND
HIM,” I yelled into her ear.
She started
crying along with Caleb and I. What a site we were, father and son sobbing into
an Android!
She was
still going to come to the park but I told we were going to get the heck out
there and come home, so we’d all meet back up there. Once home we all hugged
and sobbed right there in the drive way under the sweltering August sun.
Finally catching my breath I went inside and collapsed on the couch, completely
spent.
I will never
think of parenting the same again. It is a privilege. Now I have a deeper
understanding of the Psalm:
Behold,
children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb is a reward.
̶
Psalm 127:3
I’m also
reminded of Romans:
Weep
with those who weep.
̶
Romans 12:15b
I tell this
story to encourage and inspire parents to love your children. It isn’t pampering
or coddling, it is loving them, blessing them, teaching them, cherishing them.
For as we all know, some of our brothers and sisters have recently lost their
children in the most unimaginable way. And part of my story is to help us begin
to grasp even a wisp of the emotions and pain these parents are feeling in the
depths of their loss.
In light of
their unimaginable loss, one thing we can do is to love our children all the
more. Those that commit domestic violence—stop! Those who ignore or withdraw—get
engaged. But whatever our story, we can all love our children, and thereby,
perhaps we can love each other just a little more as well. We can lay aside our
differences and embrace that we are all part of the family of humanity, we all
hurt, but we can also all love. He so loved, so can we (John 3:16 and 1 John
4:19).
And this
love begins at home. We can be salt and light and be like Jesus by loving more.
If we learn nothing else, may we at least learn to love.
Afterword—What Actually Happened
Caleb wanted
to play a trick on me so he clambered back up the dirt slide to circle around
behind me. Problem was he got distracted by a bird or squirrel; by the time he
finally got back to the foot of the dirt slide, I had already scampered up it
looking for him. Talk about a vicious circle! His response was to again climb
up the hill, but once at the top of the hill, he ran down a different path
thinking I had gone down a different path looking for him. Thus began the most
agonizing twenty minutes of each of our lives.
To have
prevented this I could have slid down the hill with him or told him he couldn’t
slide down the hill but instead follow me down the easier path. Given my
inner-boy, I will probably choose the former should I be in the same situation
again.
I’m
fascinated by this angelic proclamation. What’s more, I’m even more fascinated
by Scripture commanding us to give glory to God. 
