When I was a little girl, I could not depart my mom or dad in public. That is because something happened that traumatized me.
I was about five years old, and we went to Bartle Hall where they were having an extravaganza of some sort. I didn't know why we were there, but there was many neat things there. I went along, holding my father's hand, marveling at all the neat things. I let go of his hand when we came to one certain place that especially caught my attention. I stood there marveling at it for the longest time, mezmerized. A lot of time must have passed, and I shook my thoughts to reality when I realized that my father had left me. I didn't care about the thing I was marveling at anymore, that was not important, because my father had left me, and I was lost. I tried looking through the crowd for him, but the crowds were so thick, it would be impossible. I sat there and cried my heart out for what seemed like hours, until a couple of ladies came up to me and asked, "Are you lost?" I looked at them through teary eyes and barely nodded my head. I don't remember telling them my father had left me, but one of them took my hand and started asking me questions about what he looked like. "Is he wearing a hat?", "Is he bald?" I remember them asking those questions. I almost opened my mouth to say no, when through the enormous crowds of people, I saw him. I released the woman's hand I held and ran to him. My mother was with him now, also trying to find me. She took me in her arms and we both cried and cried and she told me to never do that again. My parents turned to thank the women, but they were gone. They tried looking for them, but there were no where to be found.
For the longest time I could not leave my parents, even when they took me to church, I did not go to the childrens service, because I was afraid my parents would leave me. I did go to the childrens service a few times though, but when they didn't show up on time to pick me up, I panicked and thought they had left me, and I would cry as hard as I did when I got lost at Bartle Hall. I finally learned to trust they would not leave me, and I started going to the childrens service without fear when I was around ten years old.
In a sense though, I am still that way, but with another Father figure. Whenever I stray from God, I get lost and I literally cry out to Him. He takes me in His arms like my mother did that one day and says, "Never do that to Me ever again."
I was about five years old, and we went to Bartle Hall where they were having an extravaganza of some sort. I didn't know why we were there, but there was many neat things there. I went along, holding my father's hand, marveling at all the neat things. I let go of his hand when we came to one certain place that especially caught my attention. I stood there marveling at it for the longest time, mezmerized. A lot of time must have passed, and I shook my thoughts to reality when I realized that my father had left me. I didn't care about the thing I was marveling at anymore, that was not important, because my father had left me, and I was lost. I tried looking through the crowd for him, but the crowds were so thick, it would be impossible. I sat there and cried my heart out for what seemed like hours, until a couple of ladies came up to me and asked, "Are you lost?" I looked at them through teary eyes and barely nodded my head. I don't remember telling them my father had left me, but one of them took my hand and started asking me questions about what he looked like. "Is he wearing a hat?", "Is he bald?" I remember them asking those questions. I almost opened my mouth to say no, when through the enormous crowds of people, I saw him. I released the woman's hand I held and ran to him. My mother was with him now, also trying to find me. She took me in her arms and we both cried and cried and she told me to never do that again. My parents turned to thank the women, but they were gone. They tried looking for them, but there were no where to be found.
For the longest time I could not leave my parents, even when they took me to church, I did not go to the childrens service, because I was afraid my parents would leave me. I did go to the childrens service a few times though, but when they didn't show up on time to pick me up, I panicked and thought they had left me, and I would cry as hard as I did when I got lost at Bartle Hall. I finally learned to trust they would not leave me, and I started going to the childrens service without fear when I was around ten years old.
In a sense though, I am still that way, but with another Father figure. Whenever I stray from God, I get lost and I literally cry out to Him. He takes me in His arms like my mother did that one day and says, "Never do that to Me ever again."
1 comment:
this is good. very good.
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