Come to Zion

It was only for a few moments, but felt like an eternity...

We made the trek down to Provo today. There's nothing like visiting your alma mater and seeing all the renovations, demolishes, new builds, and changes (after what seems like only a few years) to make you feel old.

It's homecoming day and campus was filled with alumni of all ages and their offsprings and students and everyone dressed in navy. A sea of navy. Especially in the bookstore.

Greg had the girls in the stroller, but I needed to run downstairs to get some notebooks. So I just took Evan's hand and we followed the cougars' footprints down the steps.

We were separated from Greg and the girls for about 10 minutes. I showed Evan some of my favorite LDS prints you can only find in the bookstore and I continued reminiscing with him about my days there on campus. Good days. Good Times. And very fun to share with my own flesh and blood.

Then we headed back upstairs and scowered the crowd for a head of grey hair pushing a stroller. Not too difficult to spot. But with a look on his face I couldn't quite place. As I walked closer to Greg I asked him if there was anything else we needed. He said, "Yes. Zion."

What? Where is she!?

"I put her down and she took off."

Panic.


I start searching the mass of navy. Of course what is Zion wearing? Navy. A navy shirt and navy windbreaker. And she is so little. So little. How are we supposed to find her behind hundreds of clothing racks and book shelves and moving legs?

Suddenly I see a familiar face. A family friend from Mesa. I quickly blurt an obligatory hello-how-are-you. And then ask her and her three teenage boys to help me in the search.

I peel away from the madness of the fan-apparel section and soon see another familiar face. A friend from my current ward. I can't find Zion. Please help me.

Somehow my eyes aren't so blurry that I can spot familiar faces. Even though telling others of my plight does not help the clarity of my eyes or the shaking of my chin. I wonder how I am able to find so many familiar faces in my state of panic? But I feel a peace knowing there are more eyes searching.

Divide and Conquer.

I still have Evan's hand. And I hold it tight.

An inspection of a few more rows reveals nothing.

I see another familiar face. With grey hair. "Have you found her yet?" He mouths a "No".

I head back to the area I had begun my search. The candy counter.

No curly-haired and big-eyed girl on the close side.

I keep walking to the far side.

Then I see it-

Right there at the top of the stairs where those cougar paws begin their descent-

A small circle of women stooped forward with inquisitive but comforting looks on their faces.

The object of their concern? - my Beautiful Zion.


"Oh You Found Her! You FOUND Her! Thank You! Thank You!"

And I scoop her up and hold her tight.

And Evan does the scolding.

"You can't wander off like that Zion."


Then my game of hide-and-seek continues as I find my helpers and tell them to call the search off.
She is found.


Later I asked her what she was telling those sweet women.

In her darling, quiet, and little voice she said, "I can't find my Mom."

And my eyes welled up again as they are now.


On our drive home I began to wonder

How many close calls are we going to have on this parenting journey?