Lost and Found

The only day I haven't felt well this season was thankfully on a Saturday a couple weeks ago. When I awoke on that dreadfully snowy Saturday morning after not really sleeping during the night, I knew the only bright spot in my day was going to be the fact that Jared was home and therefore, he could corral the kids and at least keep them safe and out of my bedroom for the day.

I became not thrilled when Leah burst into my bedroom, cry-yelling some nonsense message to me through tears and sobs. I didn't have the sense to appropriately panic and spring into action after being awakened in such a startling manner, which seemed to result in even more panic and turmoil on her part.

After taking a couple minutes to orient myself and figure out who was yelling at me, I finally had the presence of mind to panic and yell myself. My response had a calming enough effect on Leah that she was finally able to settle down and tell me what was wrong in words I could understand. We're totally dysfunctional that way.

She had been watching her dad shovel the snow from her bedroom window (because she's no dummy...she might actually have to work if dad is being watched in plain sight), when she saw Buddy run away down the street. She wanted someone to go find him and bring him home. I'm still not sure why she informed a sleeping, nearly dead woman of this unfortunate circumstance when a handsome, strapping chap with a snow shovel in his hand was already dressed and outside.

While Jared took his time to finish shoveling the walks and I offered nothing more than a few mumbled orders from my flannel-sheeted sick bed (as I fantasized about no more dog hairs in the house), Leah realized someone responsible must step up and do something that would bring Buddy home. About five minutes after the hopeless outburst in my bedroom, she again stood at the foot of my sick-bed a different person. More composed this time. Calm. Hopeful. Through a half-smile and with eyes closed while nodding, she told me she had made a sign and posted it on our rain spout. She let out a sigh of relief, then turned and walked confidently away knowing everything was going to be fine. She had saved the day. Surely, now someone driving through the cul-de-sac would see the sign and bring Buddy home.

After I saw the sign with my own eyes, I could understand the source of her confidence. She had captured an almost perfect likeness of Buddy in her drawing that would make it easy for anyone to identify him. And she had posted it in on the outside of our very own home, in our cul-de-sac, for the world to see. Certainly many would come to our aid and he'd be rescued. Oh, the faith and confidence of a child.

About twenty minutes later, Jared was getting into the truck to go in search of our dog who was shedding his hairs on someone else's property, when Buddy came bounding around the corner, up the hill, and into the arms of an ecstatic seven year old.

He must have seen the sign.

Way to go Leah. You brought Buddy (and all his shedding hairs) home.