Lost and Found

Two weeks ago, my gentle, adorable grandson went to preschool for the first time. His entire family went to drop him off, and once he was safely at school, they left for work. Dad would pick him up when school dismissed.

So at the appointed time, Dad drove into the pickup line and turned on his phone’s video camera, because he wanted to record the moment for posterity–GrandBoy’s first pick up from school. But GrandBoy was not in the pickup line. (He does have a name, but I don’t use it in posts.)

(Not my grandboy).

Video camera still running, Dad goes to meet GB’s teacher. When she can’t find him, she says, “He must have walked out of the line.” Really? A child who has never been to school before is supposed to know what a line is?

No one could find GB. They went to the office, and people began to search everywhere. His dad calls my daughter at work, and she freaks out, as you might expect.

Then Dad suggests something simple: “Could he have gotten on a bus?”

Now–this school usually has a teacher who notes every kid who gets on the bus, and the bus driver should know the kids on his/her route by late April, don’t you think? But while they are debating if this is even possible, the school’s office phone rings.

In the mean time, a few miles away, my hubby is sitting in my office, checking in with me after his day, and his phone rings. It’s our daughter, and she’s hysterical. I can’t hear her side of the conversation, but suddenly my husband starts screaming, “They lost GrandBoy?!”

I respond with, “What? WHAT? Call the police!” And then I pray. Out loud. That angels would protect my precious grandson until he is found.

Meanwhile, back at the school, someone answers the ringing telephone. It’s an apartment manager a few miles from the school, and he’s with some girls who just got off a bus. They have a little boy with them, and they know he doesn’t live in their building. It’s GrandBoy.

Dad has to drive to the complex, where he picks up GrandBoy–who, thank the Lord, thinks this has all been a big adventure. The office managers have given him crackers and told him that Daddy is on the way.

That night, when our three grandkids come to spend a couple of hours with us, GrandBoy is proudly wearing his new school backpack, none the worse for his “situation.”

But hubby and I know how badly things could have gone. He could have stepped off that bus into traffic. He would have been taken by anyone. He could have started walking and we never would have found him.

But thanks to the kindness of those little girls and those office managers, what was lost was found. (And I’m not even sure he realized he was lost!)

And now I am reminded of the old parables–the missing lamb, the missing coin, the missing prodigal. God cares desperately for the lost, and our job is to be the ones who get in the car and go find them. And to be the kind girls who escort the lost to shelter. And to be the office managers who say, “Eat, drink, and be comforted, child . . . because Daddy is on the way.”

And that’s a parable for our time.