Helping a Lost Child

I went to the Blessed Sacrament before Mass today to pray the rosary.  As I was about to take the rosary off my neck, a four-year old boy walked up to where I was sitting.  His big blue eyes looked confused.  I saw him walking around the foyer of the Church when I came in.  He wasn’t sure if he should talk to me, but I smiled.  With a tremulous voice, he asked me, “I’m looking for my mommy.”

“Oh.  Okay. You want me to help you look for her?”  He nodded.  So, I got up and accompanied him into the Church.  He was barely above my knees in height.  I noticed he had a lot of gel in his hair; his tuft of blonde hair was combed to stick up in front.  He seemed to be less anxious with me by his side.

We walked up the main aisle and the boy checked to see if each woman was his mother.  He had a cast on his right arm.  We turned around and walked to the back of the Church.  That’s when he found her.  He pointed with his casted arm and looked up at me.  “That’s great,” I said.  “Bye, bye.”

I went back into the Blessed Sacrament and prayed the Glorious Mysteries.

When Mass started at 11:30am, I happened to sit down in the pew behind the formerly-lost boy, his mother, and older brother who was probably six or seven.  The boy and I made eye contact, and I smiled back with recognition.

God bless the mother.  She was having a bit of a tough time with her two boys.  I wanted to help, but I didn’t think it was my place.  The older brother was getting restless and must have injured himself at some point because he started crying loudly.

My vocation as a husband and father is so important.  It is sacred.  I miss my family and I can’t wait to see them again next weekend.  Lord, I turn to you for protection.  Keep me safe so that I get to see my wife and daugther again.  Glory be…

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