1 Mother 2 Another

Sunday started as an ordinary day: a few
whining fits, scurrying to get to church, and so on. We had a quiet
lunch afterwards as we watched the Cowboys fight their way to
victory, and the girls even headed relatively uncomplainingly
towards their quiet times. Afterwards Maddie and I went grocery
shopping while Cora and Daddy played in the back yard.


And then came the question which redefined the rest of our day.


“Mommy, where’s my Silky?”

At first I thought Maddie was being lazy
and simply not looking for it at all; she’d rather have an
adult search than get up and hunt for it herself. But it quickly
became clear that Silky was not easily visible. Then we worked
backwards through the day: did Maddie have it at quiet time? No,
which is unusual. Did she have it after lunch? Nope. What about at
church? Yes.


So where was it?


We figured it was either in the house or at the grocery store where
we stopped for donuts on the way home. The whole family tore the
house apart as Maddie became increasingly agitated. A phone call
the grocery store yielded nothing, but we all went there together
anyway in case they’d just not found it yet.


Still nothing.


Fortunately, Maddie knows we’ve got a back-up Silky, and it
went into play immediately. But Maddie began to obsess about the
lost one, fretting that she’d have nothing to hold if the
back-up Silky got dirty, or even worse, lost itself. I scoured the
grocery store parking lot, looking under cars and up trees.


Nada.


Maddie tried her best not to mope, but you could tell Silky was
never far from her thoughts. My poor kiddo worked hard to be brave,
and I could see the struggle on her face. Brian and I both swore
that we’d continue looking until we found it, reasoning it
had to be SOMEWHERE in the house. “Mommy, do they allow bad
people at the grocery store? Because what if a bad person found it
and kept it?”


And there was simply no way I could promise her everything would
work out – because I just didn’t know if it would.
Reasoning that if a bad person DID keep her Silky, perhaps it would
bring him happiness and make him a good person was cold comfort to
my five-year-old as she contemplated the loss of the one thing
she’s had all her life. There were no promises to be offered,
no soothing platitudes to spout, and as Maddie gloomily got ready
for bed, she said, “Now I think I’m going to have
nightmares all night long just because I’m worried about
Silky.”


Then I spied something peeping out beneath a blanket.


“Maddie, where’s your Silky?” I asked casually.
She pointed to the back-up she’d thrown on the bed.


“Then what’s that under the blanket on your
chair?”


Maddie stared hard, and you could see the hope growing on her face,
though she was fighting it lest she be disappointed. Then she
realized that yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, and she
pounced on that thing like the father embracing his prodigal son.
“It’s here! It’s here! Mommy found it!” she
screamed, dancing around the room.


You can guess what Maddie’s prayers were full of last night.
Praise and thanksgiving indeed, with proper gratefulness for the
best Mommy in the world. My child curled up happily, tail
practically wagging, as she settled in for what are sure to be
sweet dreams.


Sometimes I really love my job.