Protected-return of the missing post

Is it really Tuesday already?

Wow, time flies.

I’m joining Mr. Daddy and Rachel from Once Upon a Miracle for True Story Tuesday again today. Pop on over to their blog and read more great stories.

Okay, time to tell you about a scary, scary thing that happened to me…

Do you remember the lost boy from about a month ago?

If not, click here

Well, shortly after I got back from Seattle, a neighborhood came by to tell me some bad news.

“Someone found the boy again,” she said.

“He was on Main St.-ALONE!”

(Now, to get to Main St. from my house, you have to walk down 10 houses and turn right. Then, go down 15 houses and turn left and go down 10 more houses.)

A man on Main St. had found the boy wandering about and was dialing 9-1-1 when a woman pulled up to his front yard and rushed out of the car.

She identified herself as the boy’s grandmother and upset that the little guy he had gotten out of the house again.

“His father died the other day,” she told the man before she loaded the boy into her car.

Yes, the boy’s father, one of the new renters down the road… was dead.

(BTW- I believe that a death in the family is not an excuse for not watching over defenseless little children. This family is extremely fortunate that they are not mourning two family members now: the father and the little boy)

Let’s pause and I’ll set up a timeline here.

(It’s important so that you can understand what happened.)

Saturday #1 Lost Boy

Saturday #2 Police officer at my door (?)

Saturday #3 Boy’s father dies

Wed….boy found on Main St.

Saturday # 4 Return from Seattle

My prior post was about Saturday #1.

At 7a.m. on Saturday #2, my girl comes upstairs and tells me that someone is knocking at the door. Looking out the peep hole, I can see a man who is wearing a black t-shirt that seems to have an iron-on badge on it, and khaki pants.

He looks like a police officer, I don’t answer it.

He stands there and continues knocking.

I pick up the phone and call Firehubby, who has gone to work.

“There’s a guy knocking at the door. It looks like he may be a police officer.” I whisper, “If he identifies himself as an officer, I’ll call 9-1-1 and be sure that he is really a police officer.”

Firehubby agrees with the plan and stays on the phone with me.

I peek out the blinds to see if there is a car in front of the house. No, none. But, while peeking, I rattled the blinds. When I looked back through the peep-hole, he knocked again. I know he saw me.

A few minutes later, he went away.

I thought maybe it was an officer doing a follow-up on the lost boy. I was not overly concerned about what happened.

Okay, follow me here…there is a reason I am giving all of this info.

So now we are back to Saturday #4-return from Seattle:

After I found out about the lost boy and the death of his father, I headed to yet another neighbor’s house to find out what had happened. I had suspected that the mother may have been a druggy because of her lack of maternal instinct and her demeanor, and I wondered if drugs were involved with his death.

Sure enough…illegal drug overdose had killed the lost boys father.

Here is where it gets scary for me:

“Julie, remember when you asked me if I had a knock on my door a couple of weekends ago?” my neighbor asked.

“Well,” he said, ”my son-in-law told me he was up with his baby and (saw the lost boy’s father) go to your door at 4:30 in the morning. He saw the guy knock on your door and then leave.”

Then the neighbor told me his son-in-law saw the same guy go to my door around 7a.m. and leave again.

I had CHILLS.

The lost boy’s father (the guy who later overdosed on drugs) had come knocking on my door at 4:30 in the morning.

The guy would have just watched my husband leave for work.

Do you think it was a social call?

Me neither.

The guy knew I had called the police about his son, the lost boy.

No one from the lost boys house had come to talk about what had happened.

I would have let them know that the reason I called 9-1-1 was because his child was in danger and for all I knew, he was frantically searching for his son.

And I also found out that, with the type of work the guy was in, he likely carried a gun.

Thank GOD that I did not hear the knock on the door.

I would have been scared to death.

I would have called Firehubby, who would have turned right around and raced home.

There might have been a horrific confrontation.

I also would have called my next-door neighbor, my protector when my husband is gone. He would have come to the front yard.

That confrontation could have been equally horrific.

I am thankful that I had the wisdom not to open the door to the guy at 7a.m.

I truly think he wanted me to believe he was a police officer.

I also see God’s provision/protection in the fact that between Saturday #2 and Saturday #3 we had no idea that the guy had been to our home.

I don’t know how I would have functioned in my home.

If we knew what had happened, Firehubby would have gone down to the guy’s house and defended our family by confronting him about his inappropriate visits.

Thank God that did not happen.

I don’t know why the son-in-law would not have mentioned the early morning visits before the guy had died…but I am actually so thankful that we did not know.

The lost boy’s mother will be moving in a couple of weeks.

I am thankful that this brief chapter of my life is coming to a close.

I thank God for the protection he has given my family…

and I pray for protection for the lost boy and his brothers.