As was to be expected, we were used to it by now, the strollers were not left where we had parked them. Eric noticed this right away. The theater faced a courtyard (for lack of better terms) with another theater occupying the left side of the square, another theater across from the one we had just exited, and then a large arch that opened up to the Sorcerer's Hat - with a huge area of space in between these four structures. A loud parade was making its way through the crowded streets near the Sorcerer's Hat. Eric took off across the square, angling towards the arches, where we had parked the strollers. It was a bit of a walk from the exit of the theater. With Gabe on my hip, I followed behind Eric. As we turned a corner behind a building, there were our strollers, hidden from plain view. It was at this point when we were standing there that someone said, "Where's Jack?" As I turned around, the other five adults all turned as well. No Jack. Anywhere.
I passed Gabe to Grandma and bee lined for the theater. I remembered seeing Jack jumping on a spotlight just outside the theater as we had exited. As I ran, I heard Grandpa exclaim that he would stand near the arches, where slews of people were standing trying to get glimpses of the show in front of the big blue hat. At this point I was calm. Jack was probably just in the gift shop, which was right there as we exited the theater. I reached the spotlight. No Jack. I wasn't the only one calling his name as I ran through the gift shop. No Jack. My mom said she'd check the theater again. I turned and looked out across the square. Lord, give me the eyes to see what he saw. That's when I noticed Jake from Neverland back over in the direction towards our strollers, taking pictures. I sprinted back over that way, calling my precious son's name. No Jack. My heart was racing, adrenaline coursing through my body. This was getting scary. I turned around to face the same courtyard I had just ran across three times. I could not see him. In my peripheral vision I saw Eric, my mom, my dad, all running... nowhere. Coming up empty. Lord, Jack is a special boy. I don't know how he will handle strangers. Did somebody take him? Lord, help me see him!! At least 6 or 7 minutes had passed by now (which could have been an hour for all I care). As I looked back across the courtyard I saw a park "cast" member standing in front of the entrance to the theater we had exited, so I ran over to her.
"What do you do when you lose a kid?" I blurted it out in a panic, my voice high and shrill, ready to break at any moment. Her eyes bulged, reaching for her walkie-talkie. "What was he wearing?" she asked. The question hit me like a Mack truck. What was he wearing? I had carefully planned out every outfit for my children for the whole week, so they could be wearing their favorite characters on their shirts as they met them in real life. What was he wearing? I had no idea! The tears came quickly. "Umm.. I don't know... wait, Buzz. He had Buzz and Woody on his shirt!" "What was the color of the shirt?" I couldn't think! I had no idea what the color of the shirt was. The park employee put the walkie talkie up to her mouth... then paused.
She was looking out past me, towards the building to the far left of the square. "Ma'am? That woman is walking with a little boy who looks pretty upset. Is that him?" I turned to look, far across the square in the opposite direction of where I had been looking, and spotted another park employee walking and holding hands with a little boy wearing a gray shirt with Buzz and Woody on it. Carl Lewis would have had nothing on me as I sprinted top-speed across the seemingly five mile wide courtyard that separated me from my child. When he locked eyes on his momma running towards him, he broke into a run towards me, we collided in tears and just held each other for a long time. I could hear our other family members arrive on the scene, tension fading into sheer joy and relief.
I was constantly looking over my shoulder for the remainder of the trip, making sure both kids were never farther than two feet away from me. We had a wonderful vacation, and made many fun memories while journeying through the magical world of Disney. But it was hard for me to relax after that experience of losing Jack. The fear of losing one of the boys again had settled in to stay (which, in fairness, I should add that just two hours after we found Jack, we lost him again in the Honey I Shrunk the Kids playground. He was found a little quicker that time.)
Fear. It has the power to grip you, take control, consume and destroy. It devours hope, breeds panic and paralyzes our faith. I recently had another encounter with fear, that left me completely incapacitated.
A few weeks ago Eric was leading a 9 day mission trip to Haiti. In the past, when Eric has been away on trips, very bad things have happened (one of which was an F5 tornado that leveled houses less than a 1/2 mile away from our home, and later became known as part of the deadliest tornado outbreak in history, so I'm not exaggerating when I say that very bad things happen when he is gone.) The first five days of Eric's absence weren't too bad at all. The boys and I were having fun. I was attempting to fill Daddy's shoes with wrestling matches and tickle fights. I sustained minor injuries. But all week long, I had that sense of foreboding... I knew something was going to happen while Eric was away. I just knew it. As the week progressed, I noticed an increasing discomfort in my upper back, under my arm, down my arm... and in one of my breasts. I tried not to think about it because when I allowed myself to go "there" I felt pangs of panic and fear jab me in the gut. I hosted a dinner for all the moms and their kiddos that were "left behind" that week, as means of drawing on each other for support. A conversation about one of the women's friends who was recently diagnosed with cancer left me feeling very uneasy. I went to bed that night, with pain in my breast and back, and anxiety everywhere else.
The following night, after a day of extreme discomfort, I decided to do a self exam. I put the boys down for the night, walked into my room, lay down on my bed and with my arm overhead, I began nervously feeling for lumps. And I found one. My heart may have stopped beating. Lord, am I feeling this correctly? Is this really a LUMP? I kept circling my fingers, around and around. There was no mistaking it. Yes. I had found a lump.
I couldn't move. I lay on the bed, sobbing into my hand that was clamped over my mouth. So THIS is the bad thing that is going to happen while Eric is gone? I find out that I have CANCER? Lord, this is what you want for me? I couldn't stop the paralyzing thoughts. They came full force, taking me through my future and what my short life would be like. My mind was an out of control freight train headed for a cliff. And then it turned on me. The thoughts in my head were accusatory, full of blame and despair. That is when the shame came. SHAME.
Now, I need to interject, that in my honesty here, I am disclosing how fear had completely taken over my thought life. This pattern of thinking was unhealthy and honestly in hindsight, just plain ridiculous. But I was alone - my husband was gone and unreachable except through text message and the last thing I wanted to do was cause him to worry when he was focusing on serving the poor in another country - and left to only the lies that Fear was hurdling at me. For four days I was stuck in my head, assuming the worst. When my husband came home, I shared my news with him. He held me and prayed for me, but he wasn't worried. It actually angered me that he wasn't worried. Didn't he care that I might only have six months to live? I was a broken mess. I couldn't last much longer like this.
I began to fervently pray for peace. Jesus, just hold me. Wrap me in peace. Please, I just need your peace. I had scheduled a doctor's appointment for a few days after Eric's return. Every morning since I had found the lump I had awoken to an upset stomach and pangs of anxiety rippling through me. The day before my scheduled appointment, I woke up calm. How can I feel this calm? Jesus, is this your peace? Peace that passes understanding? In this moment, a Bible verse came to mind that I had learned way back in the Sunday school days... "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding." (Proverbs 3:5). For the remainder of the day, every time I felt a pang of fear rising up within me, I prayed. Lean not on your own understanding. I repeated those words over and over again. I didn't know what was happening. But God did.
The next day included a doctor's visit, quickly followed with a mammogram and ultrasound. The radiologist quickly determined that it was a cyst. A CYST. I lay on the table taking in the very good news. After he left the room, I just lay there for a few minutes. I was so relieved, but so heart broken as well. Some women don't get the news I just received. This could have gone in a completely different direction.
Fear. It's my Achilles' heel. My biggest personal point of weakness. With one swift shot fear can take me down to the ground, rendering me paralyzed and blind. I leaned on my own understanding, which is so very, very limited. When fear had a grip on me that day in Disney World, I couldn't even remember what my child was wearing. In precious moments when that information was vital, I was rendered useless. For 6 days after I discovered the lump I was a hot mess, unable to focus on anything but myself and the potential for what was to come. My focus shifted from praying for my husband who was overseas, to begging for a miracle. In an instant, I went from trusting God with my husband's life as he put himself in potential danger, to doubting His sovereignty over my own life.
I have learned a lot from this experience. The first, is that when I pray for peace, God will grant it. I have no doubt that He governed my thoughts that day before my appointment. God spoke through my husband in his prayers, and He calmed my spirit. I had become a wild horse... and He began a new work in me, training me and making me usable all over again.
The second thing I learned is that there are very good reasons for going through these hardships. Just last week I received an emergency alert on my phone - an Amber Alert had been issued for my area. I immediately was brought back to the fear I felt on that sunny day in Orlando. I dropped to my knees and prayed for the child and family who were concerned in the matter at hand. I knew exactly what to pray for, for I knew what it felt like to not know if your child was safe. After I received the news that I was physically ok, and that everything I had imagined was not actually going to come to pass at this time, my heart broke for my friend's friend who has just recently received the news of cancer in her body. Ever since, I have been praying and weeping for a woman whom I have never even met, for I got a glimpse of the fear that accompanies such uncertainty.
I recall a Beth Moore study I did on Daniel years ago. She described three scenarios when we face trials - we can be delivered from the fire, we can be delivered through the fire, or we can be delivered by the fire into God's arms. I firmly believe God gives us these circumstances where we are standing so close to a blazing fire that has the capability to consume us - and then He rescues and delivers us for a crucial reason. We are given an up close and personal glimpse of the fire so that it will grow our compassion for those who actually have to walk through it. Trusting God through these terrifying moments not only delivers us from fear of the unknown, but builds our faith for moments when we do have to walk through the fire - still trusting that He is with us every step of the way.
