Lost and Found

There were two, older women my mother would invite to our home for Sunday dinner.
They were sisters and they lived in a beautiful old house in the city.
To this day, I do not know if they had ever married…or they were widowed.
They were almost like aunts to my mother…and by default, great-aunts to me.

They were very sweet.
They knitted and crocheted beautifully.
They made me a lovely afghan for my bed…and always brought presents when they visited.

There was one thing about them that was not so great.
They were the stereotypical “great-aunts”…who grabbed your cheeks and kissed you.
I remember they wore bright pink lipstick.
Lipstick that would stay on your cheek after they finished saying hello or goodbye.

One Sunday, they visited and all the grown-ups were talking above and around me.
Gifts were given…I helped my mother serve the appetizers before dinner.
It would be a while until we sat down to eat.
I asked if I could go outside.

A “yes” was given…and I went for a walk.
We lived in a neighborhood with sidewalks…where everyone knew each other.
Simply going outside, there would be at least six possible girls to play with.
Jump rope, ride bikes, roller skate…there was always something to do.

This particular Sunday, I walked up the street a few blocks.
The road had a cement, arched wall that went over a culvert.
There was a park there…where our town’s Fourth of July parade always began.

The culvert was not too far below the road.
If you went down, by the shallow water’s edge, you were not seen from above.
I walked on the grass and decided to go down the slight hill to the water’s edge.
It seemed like another world to me.

There, near the wide opening of the storm drain, you could hear every drop of water.
A pebble thrown inside would seem like it echoed for miles.
Your voice boomed as you yelled hello to some unseen friend at the other end.

The pebbles by the water’s edge were all different…black, gray, speckled.
The dirt was sandy and gritty.
I stood there with my sneakers in the water…just a bit.

Even though the tunnel only went under the street, you couldn’t see the other side.
I imagine all sorts of wonderful things living just beyond my hello.
I didn’t mind that I was there by myself.
I had no sense of time there.

All of a sudden, I heard my name…distant…and then much louder.
More time had gone by than I thought and everyone was out looking for me.
Can I go outside? did not mean walking blocks away…by myself…near the culvert.
Obviously, it was quite a few days before I went outside again.

Over forty years have gone by since that day.
Not the child out exploring…but the mother in me…cringes when I think of it.
All the what ifs…the fact that no one knew I was there…from the road I was not seen.
I believe God protected me…though I did a foolish thing.

What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for that one that wondered off? And if he finds it, I tell you the truth, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any one of these little ones should be lost. (Matthew 18:12-14)

Many people who knew and loved me were looking for me that day.
They were relieved and delighted to find me.
Even though I was disciplined…and rightfully so…their joy was palpable.

We are God’s little ones.
The Father’s joy, when He finds a little one who has been lost, cannot be imagined.
It is complete.
One lost one, who is found, delights the Father.

He will go after the little one who is lost.
He will pursue.
When He pursues…when He calls…we do not run away!

Imagine if I had stayed in the culvert.
You can only yell hello and throw pebbles so many times!
What if I had said, No thanks…I think I’ll stay right here.

How foolish I would have been.
A delicious dinner was waiting for me.
Company was there to sit around the table together.

It is the same with the lost sheep.
When the Father finds you…you are found…completely.
He lifts you up…puts you on His shoulders…carries you home.
Dinner is waiting.
The other ninety-nine are there…around the table…delighted to see you as well.

I like to think of myself as His little one.
It makes me want to stay very close to His side.
Nothing on the other side of the culvert could ever compare to being in His presence.