Has your child ever eloped on you while you were watching him/her?
Last weekend, we attended a Heart Health Walk. It started at a local stadium and meandered a few miles before looping around and returning.
Mama and Jonny wanted to go on the walk. Jonah wanted to stay and play on the playground.
So we did.
It was a large unenclosed playground. There is no vantage point to watch him from. He ran back and forth from one side to the other, climbing the play structure and going down the slides.
As I was watching him, I would try to anticipate where he was running and meet him on the other side.
We did this for about half an hour.
Until one time I walked back … and he wasn’t there.
I looked on both sides of the play area… up and down the slides, everywhere he had been playing for the last 30 minutes.
Nothing. No Jonah anywhere. Jonah had literally VANISHED.
I panicked. And when I say “panicked,” that is the biggest understatement of the century.
It’s like a lightning bolt just SHOT through my veins.
I started running. I had no idea which way to run, but the more ground I covered NOW, the better.
There was a busy parking lot immediately adjacent to the facility. There was an open field to run in INSIDE the stadium. There were HUNDREDS of people around.
All problematic.
When you have a child who is non-verbal, you HAVE to find him. He won’t tell someone he’s lost, or that he can’t find his parents. If someone asked him, he wouldn’t respond.
If I called him, even if he could hear me, he wouldn’t answer me.
I didn’t call out. Not even once. There was no point.
The other parents saw me frantically looking around the play area and the immediate vicinity. I asked them if they had seen the little boy in a blue coat leave.
Nothing.
I feared the worst.
No. I didn’t fear it… This WAS the worst.
My first instinct was to check the parking lot. It has the most danger. But I couldn’t let my worry cloud my judgement.
I had to THINK like Jonah.
He had most likely eloped. If he had eloped, he wouldn’t have gone to the parking lot. There’s nothing fun there. He’s been learning about car safety and staying out of the street when a car is coming… at least, at home. He wouldn’t be in the parking lot. Right?
…unless he wanted to leave…
😬😬😬
Maybe he wanted to find Mama and Jonny…
No. He would not have been interested in finding them…most likely. He was too busy having fun alone.
THINK. LIKE. JONAH…
He had been to this stadium one time a year ago, for the same event.
And before he discovered the playground, he had run around the open field and in the grandstands with his brother.
I remember having to chase him because I couldn’t bring the stroller up and down the stairs.
He would remember THAT.
So I ran onto the huge field in the middle of the stadium. Luckily, the Walk had started and it was mostly empty.
Except there was NO Jonah.
Next, I turned around and looked in the grandstands.
If he wasn’t there, no… I couldn’t even ponder that yet.
Because if he wasn’t there, that meant he went missing on my watch and I wouldn’t have the SLIGHTEST idea where he went, and not even the first idea of where to start looking after that.
I would start running to the parking lot. I would start asking everyone I saw to keep their eyes out for a little boy in a blue coat.
I would yell at the top of my lungs, regardless of if he would answer or not. I would notify stadium security. I would call the police. I would call news stations. I would do any and EVERY thing I could to find him and bring him back safe.
Frankly, I would LOSE MY MIND.
But, when I was at the point I thought my fear would consume me, THERE HE WAS. My little, smiling, split-second running, escape artist was merrily walking up the stairs in the grandstands, oblivious to the near-terror I was experiencing.
A relief washed over me SO PROFOUND, it was palpable. I could hear my heart racing in my ears, and I gave Jonah the biggest hug ever.
I walked back and gave a thumbs up to the other concerned parents who had started to spread the word about a “little boy in a blue coat.”
Jonah was happy. Jonah was safe. I could cry. It felt like an eternity had passed, but it was really only like a minute, maybe less.
Less than a minute. That’s all it took.
I wasn’t going to share this story because even though I found Jonah just fine, I felt I had failed as a parent. My only job was to watch Jonah and keep him safe. And I didn’t.
For that minute, I felt like the worst parent in the world. Even after… Even now.
I don’t share this because it “has a happy ending.” I’m not proud of this.
I share this with you because, despite our best efforts, sometimes things will happen. Life happens. And if it has happened to you, know this.
You are not alone. You are not a failure.
I just read about a non-verbal 6-year-old in North Carolina who is missing after he eloped from his father while walking around a park. That could have been me. That could have been us. It happened the exact same day.
To that Ausome boy’s parents. You are not alone. You are not a failure.
And we will continue to hope and pray for your child’s safe return.
