THE FOURTH TIME I LOST MY SON

My youngest child Cameron was born in 2000 and I have lost him five times. I feel like I should say that in front of some sort of support group. “My name is Jann Franklin and I’ve lost my son five times.” I haven’t lost him since he turned seven, and I feel I should get some sort of certificate for that. It was definitely a theme during the first six years of his life.

One would think after the first three times I lost my child that I would have devised some sort of plan to keep it from happening again. The fourth time was not my fault since I was not the one who was supposed to be watching him. It happened at church of all places.

The time between Sunday School and church is that last chance to play and run and be free until you are chained to the pew and shushed and glared at by your parents for an hour. Cameron and his best friend Jack were playing in front of the church while his mother and I were talking and watching. I was definitely watching!

Jack’s dad walked up and said he needed to back to the annex and get more bulletins. The boys asked if they could come with him and he said yes. Jack’s mom and I finished our talk and went into the church. The organ began to play, signaling church was about to start. I assumed Cameron was with Jack so I sat by my family in the pew. Jack’s family came in and sat down across from us. Jack’s mom looked at me and I looked at her-none of us had our boys.

I motioned to her and she and her husband and I left the sanctuary. Jack’s dad said he sent the boys ahead and wasn’t really sure where they were but they had to be in the church. I started feeling nauseous and short of breath-a now familiar feeling. My friend Kristi entered the lobby-you’ll find more of Kristi’s wisdom and wit in my post about her Manna Principle. But I’ve gotten off track.

My friend Kristi entered the lobby from the sanctuary and asked us what was wrong. I started to tear up and told her both Cameron and Jack are missing. Kristi grabbed some straggling church family and circled us up for prayer. As we began to pray, I felt a tug on my arm. I’m sure you can guess which two boys had joined us in the prayer circle!

As I heard Kristi pray “Lord we just ask you to return to us Jack and Cameron. We ask for Your Safe Protection….” I started laughing and Kristi looked up quizzically. “Look-here they are!” Kristi never missed a beat. “Well I always say God answers prayer-and here’s proof of His answers!”

It seems that Cameron and Jack had entered the church without their families noticing and made an executive decision to sit with their friend Jake and his mom. As we were interrogating Jack’s dad in the lobby, someone had run up to the alter and asked the deacon to make an announcement that Jack and Cameron were missing. This of course was quite a surprise to Jake’s mom since both boys were sitting beside her son. So she sent Jack and Cameron to the lobby to be found. God certainly does answer prayer!

I try to find a lesson to learn in all my past situations. I don’t really feel this time it was my fault that my child was lost. Technically I suppose he wasn’t even lost-just lost to me. I think that Jack’s dad received some stern words later on from his wife. I mean, it’s one thing to lose your kid, but it’s another thing to lose someone else’s kid!

Please comment and let me know your thoughts on this post. Do share-please don’t let me be the only woman who can’t keep track of her kid.