Lost At The County Fair-Spontaneous Trust
The County Fair
It's that time of year again. Summer is gone, there's a nip in the air, and everybody's itching to have one last hurrah before cold weather hits us. We check out the arts & crafts festivals, and head for the county fair.
The minute we walk through the gate the kids start jumping up and down at the sight of the ferris wheel and midway rides. I am happy just to follow the smells of carnival food. It's greasy, fattening, and delicious.
Exhibits are fun and in full swing. We stop and watch a fire eating clown, and a skinny man juggling a hedge trimmer, and two toilet plungers. Then on to the pig scramble and a pie eating contest. Throw in the aroma of sweaty cattle, wet hay and frying sausages and that's worthwhile entertainment for today's economic times.
All of this brings to mind an earlier experience when my kids were toddlers. I worried a litte bit about them getting away from me. I bought one of those harnesses that fit over their shoulder. It had a leash that hooked at the waist. A wonderful invention. We walked the entire grounds and they were getting tired. We were almost to the gate to go home, when I heard a small child screaming Mommy, Mommy! I handed the leash to my husband and ran toward the cry. It was a little girl about 5 years old. I still can't get over how people were ignoring her. I thought if I kneeled down to her eye level, she might talk to me. So I stretched out my arms, and she immediately ran and threw herself on me. Between sobs she said, " I lost my Mommy, I lost my Mommy." I picked her up and took her to my husband assuring her we would find her. He was 6'2 and he lifted her up to sit on his shoulders, and told her to look for Mommy. Meanwhile we were walking toward the booth for lost children. It was announced on the speaker system and they came right away. She ran with her arms up and buried her face in her mother's neck. They disappeared into the crowd.
I was so spiritually moved by that little stranger. She trusted me and thought me trustworthy. Now and then I wonder if she remembers the incident. Worthiness is a gift she gave to me, and I hope, in turn, she is passing on the empathy I gave her.