When my son, Andy, was but a toddler, I took him to a local hobby shop. Both of us were fascinated with model trains. We wanted to add something to our platform, maybe another set of switches, or maybe a new boxcar. What we looked for was thoroughly unimportant. But what was inestimably important was the great father-son bonding time we enjoyed – until I got so absorbed in my own interests that I lost Andy.
He had wandered off.
For those of you who have been there-done that, you know the utter panic that transforms even the most passive person into a raving lunatic. Other shoppers quickly gained my sense of terror as I frantically tore up and down every aisle of the store, mowing down old and young alike.
The desperate search didn’t last but maybe 2 minutes, but it seemed like an eternity – probably because my heart stopped. Somebody had found Andy sitting contentedly in the model airplane aisle, perfectly at peace, reveling in his newfound interest with small planes. He was playing with one as though it was soaring and diving. Meantime, I was fearing all the worst: Andy had been kidnapped.
What a relief! My heart started beating again at a rate off the charts. It took me about 6 weeks to level out. It took an additional 3 years to pay off all the lawsuits for the all shoppers I trampled over. But at least Andy was safe.
Please come this Sunday to hear what happened when Mary and Joseph lost their son, Jesus. How does one lose God? 
