Scariest Night of My Life

Hands down, I have never felt so afraid as I did tonight.

The girls got their jackets on and went outside to play around 5:00 in the last hour of sunlight.  Our acreage is fully fenced and we are in a very private location, so I don't worry about them too much when they're out, though I peek out on them often to make sure they're alright. At around 5:30 I looked out and there they were on the front porch having a very serious conversation about the horrendousness that is strep throat swabbing.  Then I turned my back on the front door and began helping Jeff map his bus route to the University as tomorrow is the first day of class.

There is a bus stop about 50 feet from the top of our long private driveway and Jeff decided to run up there and see if there was a schedule posted on the signpost.  I asked him to take the girls up with him because they love to walk up the driveway with me to get the mail or to bring up the garbage can on trash day.

He walked out to fetch them up with him but several seconds later I heard him yelling the girls' names. Over and over again.  And again. And again.

They were gone.

He ran in the house, "Are they in here?  They're not outside."

I threw my shoes on and ran.  Around the side of the house, down the sloping backyard, through the side gate, and into the pasture.  My mind was on the edge of a precipice.  One moment of neglect and I would have been unable to catch myself from falling headfirst into the dark abyss of panic. So I focused on my footsteps. As I ran through the pasture screaming my daughters' names, I was internally telling myself,  'take a step.  Take another step. One more step.  They'll hear me if I'm just one step closer.'  But they didn't respond.  I opened the Taboo Gate.  The gate that leads through nasty underbrush to a creek, which to my dismay was coursing swiftly and fully thanks to recent rain.  It's the gate the girls KNOW they aren't allowed to even touch.

I get to the creek in the very last minutes of sunlight, and there is nothing.  No footprints in the clay bank to let me know if they had been there. No footprints, but no little girls.  I have never prayed for anything like I prayed to find those girls tonight.  There was one shred of hope left.  Jeff had hopped in his car as I had taken off around the side of the house.  He was driving back down the driveway just as I reached the front yard. 

"Do you have them?" I had to ask it even though the look on his face had already confirmed my worst fears. Then my mental handling slipped and there was the falling sensation and I couldn't hold back the panic any longer.  I sobbed, "Where are my babies?  Where are my babies?" The sun was sinking so quickly into the horizon.  Why was it so eager to set on this night in particular? I needed more time.  The police would need more time.  The police.

I have always made it my goal to live my life in a way that will keep my family and I off the evening news, but here I was handing my phone to my husband as we both decided that it was time to call 911 because our 2 little girls had vanished without a trace.

And then we both heard a tinkling giggle ringing somewhere through the forest closeby.  "Shh!!! What was that?" Jeff demanded. "Salem?  Averlin?"

And then the sound of their happy little chatter.  We turned toward the driveway and there they came hand in hand completely unaware that their mother had just begun to prepare herself for a lifetime of heartache and that their father was just pushing the send button for a call to 911. 

When they saw our faces they froze and then proceeded forward cautiously and ever so slowly.  I ran to them and hugged them both to me and laughed, and sobbed, and scolded, and laughed some more, cried some more, and scolded a WHOLE lot more.  They knew perfectly well that they are NEVER EVER EVER EVER allowed to leave the gate without an adult with them.  How could they do something so thoughtless and dangerous?

And then they explained that they had been to all the neighbors' houses selling the bracelets they had been making all day. Which earned them another tearful scolding of its own.

And then we all went in the house and Salem cried and told me she was so sorry and would never ever do it again.  And you know what?  After the commotion of their homecoming, I believe her.

And now, all three of my treasures are snug in their beds.  Warm, safe, and whole.  I am always so grateful for that, but tonight I have offered up an extra prayer of gratitude for the lovely little blessings He has given me and for every moment I have been given to spend with them.  I am grateful for the moments when they are wonderful and loveable, when they draw uninterpretable drawings or wrap their little arms around me in "bursts of love".  I am grateful for the moments when they are horrible and difficult, when they won't go to bed on time and I have to lie on the floor in their room and sing to them until they fall asleep, when they get chocolate all over the kitchen trying to make cupcakes, when they are disrespectful and I have to learn patience and the true meaning of unconditional love.  I am so grateful for each and every opportunity I have to be in the presence of my little gifts, even when I don't appreciate them in the moment. God has been so, so very good to me.