A child shadowing both of my sides, we diligently moved through the section of men's clothing. The department store had few customers on that winter day. It more resembled a library apart from the Mariah Carey song on the speakers.
The sun shone through the glass front doors casting shadows into the darker corners of the larger building. The mother of Little Lost Elizabeth had stated she had left her daughter with Grandma near the section we now searched. My boys were careful, kneeling to check under clothing racks. They knew all too well the hiding places of small children. More often than I'd like to admit, they had hid from me only to be reprimanded with not too soft words such as, "Don't you ever hide from me again! You could have been taken by a stranger and never have seen me again! Stay by my side from now on or you'll lose your hotwheels for a month!" Something along those lines.
Slowly the three of us paced the area, me praying internally while questioning the boys externally. "Where would you hide if you were a little kid?--Well, then we should check there." "If this ever happens to you, who do you go to for help?--Good, good." "What do you absolutely not do?--Yes, that's right. Now let's pray Little Lost Elizabeth knows better than to do something like that."
The old cliche "time stood still" applied nicely to this particular moment. My senses were heightened, a basset hound on the hunt--though I'd like to think I looked nothing like the pure bred. We skipped the aisle and moved toward the ladies apparel observing every person in sight.
After about 10 minutes, I decided to ask the mother again to see if she had had any luck locating LLE (Little Lost Elizabeth). Beelining past racks of embroidered sweaters meant only for kindergarten teachers and great-grandmothers, I reached Sherry and posed the question I so hoped would end with a yes. Before even opening my mouth, I knew I would not receive what I desired. "No, not yet..." Her face was pale and her hands shook. Possibly from smoking, yes, but in this case, I think not. If panic were a color, LLE's mom would have been painted with it. It fell over her like an unwelcome hug from a perverted boss. No, that would be disgust not panic. well, never mind...
Anyway, my mind turned to God. I prayed. I offered the woman what I felt I could, a hug--and not a perverted boss hug. An "I understand your fear, but God is in control and loves you both" embrace. Promising her I'd keep searching, my posse and I turned and headed straight. Not having any clue where I was going, I mentally processed the situation, while praying and moving forward at the same time. In hindsight, I'm surprised my boys' hands didn't fall off. My grip had to have been kung fu-like fueled by a determination to not allow my kids to ever wander away from me...
The shoe department lay straight ahead. I glanced at new pair of athletic shoes--a good style for my youngest, and on sale. Out of my peripheral, I caught a mess of curly blond hair. My eyes tried to react, but the image fell away. Not letting go of my own children, I raced around shoe case after shoe case, searching up and down each aisle.
"Look mommy! It's..." My oldest son's finger was trained directly on a girl. A little blond curly haired girl who looked just like LLE.
I approached her gently and softly. "Are you Elizabeth?" The child stared at me and began to back away. I felt a bucket of panic paint starting to pour down my back. "Wait! Don't go..."
Suddenly an older, darker haired girl stepped out from behind a shoe rack. "Who are you?" She inquired.
"I am helping find this little girl--her mommy is looking for her. Is her name Elizabeth? Is her grandma around?" By that point I was on my knees appealing to the children.
The older girl took the younger one by the hand and began to pull her in the opposite direction--smart, really, from a stranger-danger perspective.
"Wait! You don't have to talk to me, but please wait here while I get her mom or store personnel." Running with my two boys I chattered praises to God excitedly while exclaiming to the boys, "He's helped us find Little Lost Elizabeth! God has found her!"
The mother saw us coming and met me halfway. "We have found her," I said moving back toward the shoe department. "She's with an older girl..."
The reunion was splendid. I cried, per my usual reaction. The mom thanked me and I told her it was God who found her child.
To this day, almost three years later, my children still remember the winter day we helped find Little Lost Elizabeth. An experience that has served me well training my children on the importance of following directions, staying close to mom in public places and knowing the proper people to talk to if in said circumstance.
What did I learn? Easy. Never leave my child to smoke a cig... :)
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