What once was LOST now is FOUND

I am in the few mere days leading up to my first ‘Living From the Heart’ class, being presented by Soul Streams and hosted this weekend at King’s Fold Retreat Centre. I am greatly looking forward to reacquainting myself with a place that I have fond memories of and great expectations for ‘meeting with God.’

The required readings involve delving into some intense conversation about ‘surrendering to the love of God.’ Concrete and profound images of the love of God are sometimes hard to find in my daily life and so I have been pleasantly (if not brokenly) accosted by two personified images that both come from a dear child in my life, my little almost two-year old niece, Norah. Both happened in the span of a few hours this past Saturday, as our family celebrated the birthday of her mom.

Upon arrival to my new home in Okotoks, Norah ran across the street towards me as soon as her little feet hit the ground out of the family van. She was running literally ‘head-first,’ leaning forward at the risk of falling and tripping in her eagerness to get to me and my waiting arms. Her arms were open, her smile was bright, her little pigtails were bobbing and the utter delight and abandon that accompanied this great reception did not go unnoticed by her parents or myself. She was absolutely convinced of my acceptance of her. She was totally confident of my ability to catch her as she flung herself into my arms. She was utterly selfless in her affection for me.

Of all the times I’ve reflected on and pondered the story Jesus tells of the prodigal son and his faithful father, this was maybe the first time the roles of the two converged in my own life. In Norah I saw the faithful and abiding love of the father and the desperately seeking and hopeful posture of the son. I felt the abandon and absolute ‘surrender to love’ that erases all fear and showers unconditional acceptance upon the receiver. I was loved. She was love and beloved.

After a time of fun and food, her mom and I remained in the home to prepare dessert, while the rest of the family, including six kids, left for the playground, across the same street Norah had previously traversed. They enjoyed their visit involving swing sets and monkey bars and safely returned to the home. Well, almost all of them. A brief moment later it was discovered that Norah was missing. Absolute desperation gripped me. Norah was missing. She wasn’t where she belonged. 

I flew up the stairs to the yard. I ran through the gate. I had a fleeting thought of the dessert chocolate potentially burning on the stove. ‘Damn the chocolate’ was my noble thought. ‘Heaven help us’ was my prayer. As I turned the corner, I saw a group of adults across the street; they were my intended destination. Instead, as I turned the corner, here was Norah at the front door, coming down the steps with a kind, brilliantly blonde teenage girl at her side. My run slowed to a walk, now was not the time for dramatics. I lifted up this little girl and the little doll she was dragging beside her. She melted into my shoulder. I asked the teenage girl, Nicole, for the story and offered my deepest thanks, I must have asked for her name a dozen times. I couldn’t stop looking at her brilliant blonde hair, slightly angelic if you ask me. I then returned to my home to give Norah back to her mom and dad and pass the story along. What once was lost now was found.   

Again, it was a time of rediscovering the depth and character of divine love as revealed in another of Jesus’ stories. This time, the story of the shepherd that has the ninety-nine sheep on the hills and goes looking for the lost one. There is just no other option. I get it now. Of course the shepherd couldn’t do anything except go; and go quickly and fervently. And with absolute abandon. Not with disregard for anyone else. Just as my care for the remaining family in the home did not decrease, it was the desire for the lost one that increased. Rapidly. Exponentially. Because this was the one that was not safe, was not found. I literally knew I would not stop until she was found. I would give all to find her. I would hunt, ask for help, look like a fool and beg the God above until she was back where she belonged. And then the celebrating could begin.

What once was lost now was found. And I am slowly discovering this love that is spoken of and given by Jesus. Not just in a story. But in our ordinary, everyday lives. Maybe even today.  

(Stories and photo used with permission from Norah’s parents)