Frankie kept talking but still refused to look at me, making his words seem more a soliloquy—a prayer, even—than a conversation.
“I remember going to the store with Tara when she was six,” he said. “I got to talking to this guy I knew. Just shootin’ the breeze, you know? Tara wandered off.”
I leaned back in my chair and took a sip of coffee. Frankie’s, I noticed, was still full. Customers milled about chattering of weather and news. Like Frankie and me, they spoke of things unchangeable.
“I just looked down to rub her head, and she was gone. Gone. Know how that feels?”
I didn’t know whether to nod or listen. I nodded. If Frankie saw it, he let it go unmentioned.
“I just panicked. Just turned and left, leavin’ the guy I was talking to standing right there in the middle of the store. I ran down every aisle, asked people if they’d seen my daughter, everything. I swear, that was the worst feeling in the world.”
“Until now,” I said...
To read the rest of this story, please hop over to my column at High Calling Blogs. It’s a tough lesson for every parent to learn, but maybe a necessary one. Sometimes no matter how much we love our kids, they’ll wander. Just like no matter how much God loves us, we’ll do the same…