The Lost Lamb

My daughter, Laura, looks at this picture and likes to point out that a significant feature of her childhood, was that she “Owned clothes that matched the house’s tablecloths.” I think my wife looks at it and remembers a wonderful time in her life where she spent countless hours with her daughter exercising their creative talents. I look at this picture and immediately recall a solitary winter evening, and how it influenced my understanding of what’s truly important in this life. 

It was a cold, windy night in Misawa Japan and the ground was covered in a blanket of snow. Hyesuk was out attending a women’s function at church and left me at home to care for Bobby and Laura. After feeding, bathing, and putting both kids to bed, I turned on the TV and sat down on the floor by the coffee table to work on a jigsaw puzzle. I vaguely remember Laura coming up behind me and giving me a hug around the neck, but I was barely distracted from the TV or my puzzle and didn’t even question why she was out of bed.

Several hours passed before Hyesuk came home. As was her custom, the first words out of her mouth requested a status report on her children. I informed her that while she was out socializing, I’d fed, bathed, and put both of them to bed. Hyesuk stepped into their room to kiss them goodnight, and immediately questioned why Laura wasn’t in her bed. Remembering that she’d got up earlier, and suspecting she’d probably gone to our bed, I went upstairs to check. When I didn’t find her there, my concern turned to worry and then to panic as I quickly checked every room without success. With Hyesuk alternately yelling Laura’s name and screaming at me, we went room-to-room methodically checking every possible place my little girl could be. I ransacked the closets and checked every drawer. I opened every cupboard, the washing machine and dryer, and even the refrigerator. I remember a feeling of terror when I realized she wasn’t in the house. Laura knew how to open doors.

I was sincerely praying for help as I ran outside screaming Laura’s name. After only a few seconds, I realized that yelling and looking for tracks wasn’t going to work. The snow wasn’t fresh; we’d already been out playing during the day. We were living in a rural area surrounded by fields and woods. It was hard enough to keep track of the kids during the day while we watching them.  In desperation, I hurried back into the house to call for help. Our phone was on a stand by the wall to the left of the picture. As I reached for the phone, a wave of relief engulfed me. Sticking out from under the tablecloth was a tiny bare foot. Laura had climbed up on the chairs and gone to sleep under the table.

The next morning at church I read the Parable of the Lost Sheep. I was able to keep my composure, but every word was spoken with gratitude and understanding.

Luke 15:3-7

³ Then Jesus told them this parable: ⁴ “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? ⁵And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders ⁶ and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ ⁷ I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.