Lost

As we headed toward the airport with Mike on Friday, so he could return to Boise and help get his family all back down here, I got hit with a wave of diarrhea. When we dropped Mike off, I jumped out of the car with him to go find a restroom fast. Just as I stepped away from the car, I realized I had the keys in my purse so I tossed it back in with Brent. And as he pulled away to go wait for my call in the car wait zone, I realized the purse also had my phone in it. I watched him drive off, but was in no position to pursue. I took care of the business at hand, and after finding relief I went to try to find Brent.

I’ve never felt so helpless, so vulnerable. Mike was already into the security area, and was on the telephone anyway so he couldn’t be reached. I had no idea where Brent was or how long it would take before he realized that he had my phone and I wasn’t going to be able to call him. I knew eventually he’d come looking for me. But in the meantime, I had no money even to use a pay phone to call him. I’m sure, in my ratty old coat, I probably looked like a beggar on the street. I waited outside for a while, hoping to see the Altima drive up to rescue me. But every car that came by was not him. Finally I went back upstairs and looked to see if I could see it parked, but short of walking through the entire parking garage, I couldn’t see it right off. Went back downstairs and visited with a security guard about my plight. He could make arrangements to get me a ride out to the car park, but I told him I was concerned that Brent may not even be there. All I really need was access to a phone. Unfortunately, rides he could arrange, phone calls he could not.

I debated briefly doing something really illegal that would require them to arrest me. Prisoners do get one free call, don't they?

Instead, I waited.

I finally decided the only way we would ever get back together would be if I stayed put. And finally, I turned around and saw him coming toward me. Through the crowds his face was the one I was longing to see. Although it had only been maybe a half hour, the joy at being reunited was indescribable.

Brent, too, was actually relieved to finally have located me. He was sure I had gone to the first restroom I could find, not realizing there was one even closer, so he had been looking for me across the street in the terminal. He said when I didn't show up and didn't show up he started having flashes of Susan Powell (a woman gone missing here in Utah whose husband is the prime suspect and won't cooperate or answer questions from the police). He told me he was sure he would cooperate.

We can laugh about it now, even laughed about it then, but I hope I never forget the feeling I had of being lost in a crowd, of being without and needing, of being alone and very vulnerable, of being a beggar on the street. I knew if Brent didn’t show up soon, I was going to have to resort to begging, finding someone who would loan me their cell phone or some money to make a call, or their business phone or something. And I am still having a hard time believing the security guy couldn’t have found me a phone somehow.

But I don’t want to forget that feeling because I want to better serve God’s children. We are all beggars, after all, aren’t we? Looking to Christ to redeem us from our own weaknesses and downfalls? And He comes through, our Savior in the crowd, to rescue us and bring us back home. I never want to forget that. Not ever.