Another lesson on being attentive

My son stops cold each time we pass a face of a missing child. He has for some time. I don't recall the first photo he asked about, but I recall the panic I experienced the first time he asked about a missing child. How could I explain to him that other children have just gone missing? Even trying to explain required that I consider the traumatic reality that he could be the one missing. Explaining at any level sparked his realization that he lives in a world where kids like him go missing. The walls we build to block out potential trauma in our lives are torn down answering questions like these.

Gabe finds these photos everywhere. The pizza place has a missing child's face on a candy bin where you can drop in a quarter and get a tootsie roll. A similar notice and candy bin is at my hairdressers. The milk cartons. The signs in the grocery store. Everywhere. Too many lost children.

I walk past these pictures most often without even noticing. I've built strong walls; it's easier to be numb than to ponder the depth of such deep losses. Gabe asks few questions when he sees these notices now. I could learn something from his ability to just live with the questions. He simply stops and looks with a deep compassion at each photo. He notices the age when the child has gone missing. He calculates how old the child is today. When we go to our regular places...he heads toward the notices he has seen many times before.

One time Gabe looked at a notice and said, "Mom, this one is still missing". I was struck by my own lack of hope that a missing child would ever be found and yet it was his sincere expectation. Another time he said "look mom....she was found!" and sure enough, there was a notice that a formerly missing child had been found. That's why these notices are around...because in some cases they work. They work because people notice and believe in hope against hope.

Gabe gives these deep losses and amazing occasions for celebration the attention they are due. He pays attention to loss, to joy, to reality, to miracles. And to his lead, I intend to pay attention.