LOST — AND FOUND

My last posting was called Bias to the Normal.   Normal, my foot!    Nothing about the last 48 hours has been normal!

LOST

A mother goes berserk when her son is lost.    I knew the flight pattern that would take him from The Netherlands to his home.   I posted a screen shot of it in that last posting.  I knew how long it would take him to drive home after that.     But he didn’t arrive.

And for the next 24 hours or so,  absolutely no one knew where he was.    No communication with him.     Nothing.

Nothing but a very overactive imagination on my part.   I imagined a whole lot of things that could happen to him.     Hour by hour by hour. . . .

When frantic frequent prayers brought no results I turned to —

SAMSUNGYeah. . . .I opened up a brand-new picture puzzle.    I had to do something to stop pacing and start breathing again.    Did nearly the whole puzzle that day.

At a certain time, I turned to that most meditative of prayers and lost myself in the Gospel story for about twenty minutes.    You know the part about Our Lady “losing”  her son Jesus for a few days in Jerusalem?    I nearly lost it there, but I can say I now understand.  I understand.  I understand this Fifth Joyful Mystery.

FOUND

When Son finally appeared at my door,  I felt like a robot;  couldn’t move.    There was the reality standing before me.   I had had him kidnapped and murdered;  jailed;  mugged and bonked on the head;    sick and unable to identify himself;    in Pago Pago after having gotten on the wrong plane with no way of getting back;    detained and lost forever by Airport “Security”;     chopped up and buried someplace after a fight in Detroit over his beautiful black GTO which had been waiting for him….

Well, I was right to worry about one of those things.   Son came in and sat down and proceeded to talk, non-stop, for the next few hours.

After two missed flights – (TWO!   have you ever heard of anyone missing two flights in a row?)  –    and I’ll spare you all the details, all the roadblocks that the world seemed to throw in front of this young man —  he finally arrived, once again, at the airport looking rather unkempt,  very much lacking in sleep,  hungry,  agitated,  hot and sweaty,  unable to focus on anything except hoping to get  on the plane.

Now imagine that you’re  Airport Security and you have someone standing in front of you who looks agitated, unfocused, sweat running down his face,  impatient with questioning,  all  alone,  can’t find his baggage claim ticket to prove he had checked some baggage –  and he looks like a Viking –  tall, blond, blue-eyed, and muscular…..and he claimed to have no problem with all the extra money this is costing him…..and he didn’t connect with all the questions…..

Miraculously,  they let him on the plane.  Miraculously,  he was not “flagged” when he landed in America.  MIraculously,  he made it home.

I asked him one question.   About when was it that you were being questioned by the authorities?    I didn’t say anything then,  but his answer told me that it was at the same period of time that I had my rosary in my hand.

Who says working a good picture puzzle can’t calm you down enough — so that you can then think to do the right thing!!!!

Deo gratias.

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