9-1-1

I hope to never have to make that kind of phone call again.

"Bloomington 911, what's your emergency?"

It was hard to speak and actually say why I was calling.  Even typing now, tears come to my eyes. 

Our sweet little James has been learning to ride a bike.  When he left the house, he could only coast.  He hadn't learned to balance while peddling yet.  But 30 minutes after he left, no one could find him.  Anya raced around the neighborhood on her bike.  But he was no where.  So I sent her off to the park down the trail that runs behind our house.

I drove around the block a few times to double-check and couldn't find him either.  I came home and walked down the trail to find Anya.  She was crying pretty hard when I met up with her.  She couldn't find James anywhere and she was scared.

Even though the bike was no where to be found, I told Mark to check the whole house.  I got back in the car and started going up and down every street.  I started to say several little prayers for James...we all were.  The reality of what might have happened was tearing me up inside.  I was a half mile from home...passing the pool in the subdivision...and it hit me that there is no way James got this far.  He didn't know how to ride a bike.  All he could do was coast and that was it.  I turned down another street and headed back home.  If something happened, I had to make the call.  "Oh, James," I prayed.  Heavenly Father knew exactly what those two words meant - all the emotion...all the feelings of a concerned parent...the desire for James to be comforted wherever he was.

I pulled up the driveway and called 911.  I answered questions I never want to answer again.  I tried to be brave around my family.  I assured Anya and Karen that we would find him.  But my face probably said something else.

Anya and I headed down the trail again.  This time, we went the other direction.  She wouldn't go ahead of me.  I asked her to peddle to the creek...she would still be in my sight.  So she went on ahead.  I asked bikers and runners if they had seen a little boy on a green dirt bike.  Then I heard a sound behind me.  Mark was chasing after us.  Poor kid doesn't understand that he needs to volunteer critical information without being asked.

I asked if they found James.

Yes.

The dispatcher called shortly after Anya and I left and said that a police officer found James walking his bike.  I called to Anya and told her.  I've never seen her ride so fast. 

We all were on the driveway (including a concerned neighbor) when the cop pulled up with James in the back and his bike in the trunk.  The police officer did a little siren and pulled up saying that they were leading the parade.  He was really quite nice about it all.  He shook James' hand and thanked him for being so polite and so brave.

James was pretty shaken up.  Apparently, he knows how to ride a bike now.  He started peddling and just kept going.  And then he got really lost.  So lost, I couldn't find him while I was driving around.

We hugged him a lot.  We enjoyed some ice water and popsicles in the kitchen while we talked about what happened.  We were excited he learned to ride.  Anya talked about when she got lost in a store.  I talked about when I got lost when I was a kid.  We laughed.  We told him how Mark mentioned how weird it would be to sleep in his room alone.  James replied, "I didn't even know Mark liked me!"

So we're fine now.  We'll draw a map of our new neighborhood.  We'll implement the buddy system.  (We would have already done all that had we known he could ride a bike!)  And it's never felt so good to have James home.  That was too much emotion for one afternoon.

But we are so grateful that James was kept safe and found his way back home.  I think our FHE lesson on Monday night will relate this experience to our journey back home to Heavenly Father.  It will probably be an experience James will never forget.