My goodness! Whatever in the world possessed me to take a toddler, a four-year old, and a honking huge stroller into that crowded Disney store at the Scarborough Town Centre on the Friday afternoon before Christmas is more that I will ever know. Even as I write this, I am shaking my head.
All was going reasonably well.
That is until Hux, my one-year old grand headed out of sight toward the entrance of the store. Grabbing the stroller and calling his name, I maneuvered around store displays and caught him in the nick of time.
With my left arm around Hux as I balanced him on my hip, and my right hand awkwardly steering that huge stroller back around those display islands, my eyes scanned the little movie area where I had left Lola–less than 10 seconds before.
I heard an audible gasp. It was mine.
Quickly putting Huxley into the stroller and occupying him with a half-eaten bag of Kernels popcorn, I quickly retraced my steps back to the store entrance. My strategy was to begin there and move my way to the back of the store.
No sign of Lola.
I began to call her name, quietly at first, but as the adrenaline began to surge through my body, my voice became louder–and louder.
I didn’t care what people thought.
I didn’t care that I looked like a grey-haired-woman-gone-koo-koo as she banged into display islands with those humungous stroller wheels.
I didn’t care that Hux dropped the popcorn bag—it’s contents spilling out on the floor—and instead of picking it up, I wheeled right over it, flattening the bag and leaving an ugly mess behind me.
In split seconds, thought like these were blasting through my brain:
- “Why are there so many people in here?”
- “Why did I bring my precious babies into this craziness?”
- “Doesn’t anyone see I am frantic?”
- “Isn’t anyone going to help me?”
- “Oh my goodness, how will I ever tell my daughter, Jenn, that I lost her daughter.”
- “I can’t tell her. I will just have to run away and never come back.”
- “Where am I going to go?”
Oh yeah. I was an internal mess. Not to mention, by this time Hux was crying because he dropped his popcorn.
I am pleased to report that I did not have to run away.
It was in my third frantic search through that little store while pushing a giant stroller that Lola casually came meandering out of the very back corner, where apparently, she had been mesmerized by the princess lipgloss.
The PRINCESS section. Why didn’t I check there earlier?! She was probably daydreaming in her own little princess-world and didn’t even hear me calling her name. (Or, she was too embarrassed to be associated with me until I settled down.)
Whatever the case, let me tell you, I was never so glad to see her darling face in my entire life.
My weary soul rejoiced.
As the kids ate some lunch, my heart began to quiet down. As it did, I became acutely aware that I had just experienced the very essence of what Christmas is about: being sought after and found by the one born that first Christmas morning.
For God so love the world, He gave His only Son… (John 3:16)
For the Son of Man came to seek and to save those who are lost…(Luke 19:10)
To seek and save the lost. That’s me. That’s you. That’s every soul in the whole world.
I was seeking Lola with everything within me. It was my only purpose and my only focus in that moment at the mall. I was passionate. I couldn’t bear for her to be lost. This passion was overwhelming to me. It overtook me.
I think the Lord allowed me to taste one tiny billionth of the passion He has to seek and save me. And you. And the world. His love and passion to seek and save us is totally immeasurable and unexplainable.
Oh my, doesn’t that truth bring a thrill of hope to you today?
Yes, Christmas is Jesus. The One who came. To seek us. To save us. We, the lost.
Let our weary soul rejoice!!
Merry Christmas sweet friend!