Christy Is Missing!

I was still working on the last bite of my late lunch when I heard a car sliding to a stop in front of the parsonage. I reached the door in time to see a cloud of dust billowing up from our gravel parking lot and a woman racing toward our front porch in what appeared to me to be an advanced state of hysteria. She was yelling, but I could not understand a word she was saying.

We met at the top of the steps. I took her by the shoulders⎯holding her until she quieted down. When she gained control of her emotions I released my grip. She struggled to speak, but finally blurted out the words: "Christy is missing!"

I was taken aback. Did I know someone named Christy? No one came to mind.

"Who is Christy?" I said, "And who are you?"

"I am Mary," she said, with desperation still in her voice. "I live on the east side of Tulsa. Christy is a little girl living at the end of the new road the county has opened up. She is a little past three years of age."

"I was on that road," she continued, "looking for property that my husband and me might be able to buy, when I saw the woman racing toward me waving her arms for me to stop. I could see she was crying, so I stopped. She told me her little girl, Christy, was missing. She asked me if I would please go for help. I remembered passing this church on my way to look for property and it was the only place I could think of to go for help. On my way here, I panicked."

I asked if authorities had been notified. Mary didn't know. Could she lead me to where she met the lady who told her the little girl was missing? She said she could.

I followed her in my car, thinking as we went that there was nothing in my past that prepared me for search and rescue. Or was there? Down the halls of my memory I could hear echoes of my parents cautioning me about the dangers of snakes, stock ponds, rushing streams, and low clouds covering the mountaintops. Would these be a starting place to look for Christy? Perhaps.

I had traveled the road we were on. Just a few months back I was on this road, doing community visitation. I had even stopped at some of the houses. But I could not recall seeing a pond or swimming pool. No rushing streams or snakes, either. And, today, I could see there were no low clouds covering the hilltops. However, I knew there were hundreds of acres of unfriendly scrub oaks, briars, tall grass, and wild animals.

As we drove, I was surprised at how fast the area was building up. Several families had purchased five-acre tracts, built homes, and were in the process of landscaping their yards.

Mary's brake lights came on. I braked, straining to see why she was stopping. Then I noticed the house, almost completely hidden by trees. This must be the place⎯the end of the road. As I parked, I saw a huge pile of reddish dirt. A shudder ran through my body when I realized this family had dug a pond or swimming pool.

I feared the worst as I hurried toward the pile of dirt. A lady came rushing toward me identifying herself as Christy's mother. Without slackening my pace I asked what was behind the massive pile of dirt.

"A pond," she replied.

I broke into a run, only to be stopped in my tracks when she called out, "There is no water in the pond! We finished it last week and it hasn't rained since we dug it," she explained.

Approaching cars halted our conversation with her husband's vehicle leading the way. Workers from the plant where he was employed followed him. The whole plant had shut down. Business as usual could wait. Christy was missing and finding her was the priority. Only one person remained at the plant to answer the phones. Strangers calling the plant on business were told of the crisis. Soon even some of them arrived to join in the search.

The employees of the plant weren't the only ones who were coming. Sirens could be heard in the distance and momentarily sheriff's cars began arriving, followed by an ambulance and medical team. Trucks and trailers carrying horses were next. Finally, a real search and rescue team came, trained and equipped to comb the hundreds of acres for Christy who had now been missing for more than three hours.

A massive search and rescue was about to be launched. A helicopter, equipped with powerful searchlights, was ordered to stand by as plans were made to search through the night, if necessary.

Professionals, trained in search and rescue for just such an occasion, led the search. Almost a hundred people like myself, untrained but willing to help, formed a line with only a few feet between us. We walked through the underbrush as best we could, calling Christy's name, waiting momentarily for her to respond, and then repeating the call again and again. "Christy! Christy!" The little girl's name rang out across the field, even when most of those calling her could not be seen for the brush.

Finally, the word came, Christy had been found! She was approximately four miles from home. Somehow she had made it through the brush-choked field and found her way to a small clearing at the top of a hill. It was there that a mounted member of the search and rescue team found her.

The search was over just a little before dark. It ended with the joyous return of a little girl who was bruised, scratched, and very, very tired. So tired, in fact, she went to sleep even while people were talking and celebrating her rescue.

Driving home that evening I thought of the effort that had been made to find Christy. For the sake of a missing little girl, people left families, jobs, and businesses. They paid whatever cost was necessary to find her. It was the most Christ-like thing most of the rescuers had ever done.

Just a reminder.

Lord, thank You for seeking us when we wandered far from You. Thank You most of all for finding us and bringing us back home.