Gemma's Hero

image found here

All morning long, I couldn't decide whether to eat lunch over in the CougarEat or treat myself to the vending machines in the break room upstairs. When it came time for my lunch break, I checked the balance on my school I.D. and headed over the the CougarEat, hoping to avoid the lines and find something cheap but also not garbage. I walked through the doors and passed a beautiful mixed-race family, the youngest hitching a ride on the dad's shoulders up at the front, with six or seven rambunctious siblings tagging along and the mom corralling from the back. I smiled at the happy chaos and continued down the hall, wondering what I should eat.
As I rounded the corner, however, something else caught my attention. A little girl, running and scared, coming to the realization that she was lost. She nearly ran straight into me, and our eyes met just as she called out again for her daddy. I could see the frantic fear overwhelming her and the tears welling up. I quickly knelt down before the tears could escape and said, "Don't worry! We'll find your daddy!"
At first, she was shy. I figured he was somewhere close by and that she'd just lost sight of him. I pointed around the hallway filled with strangers, trying to figure out which direction she came from, but she just shook her head. I asked what her name is, told her my name is Karli, and promised her that we would find her daddy.
After walking through the dining area with no luck, I took her over to the central vendor, hoping they'd have some sort of intercom system or something. I could feel Gemma's little hand tighten apprehensively as we talked to the student employees working the register. I had to keep reminding her that we were going to find her daddy and that she didn't need to be scared. Luckily, one of the student managers walked by as I was explaining to another worker, and she pointed me to Taco Bell for the intercom system. As we walked over there, I told Gemma we were going to call her daddy so that he would know where to come find her. She got really excited and started reciting his phone number over and over. Smart little girl. :) Unfortunately, the phone was dead or something because it kept going straight to voicemail. The student manager made the announcement for "Gemma's father" over the intercom, and we waited patiently.
While we waited for her daddy, Gemma told me that she is 3 years old. She told me her favorite color is purple so we found all the purple flowers in the Campus Floral display case. She told me she has a big brother and a big sister and one little brother, and I told her about Annie and that she was home with her daddy today. Every time I could see the tears threatening, I'd squeeze her hand and remind her that her daddy was coming.
Unfortunately, the intercom announcements weren't working. The student manager took us to her supervisor's office that looks out over the dining area so they could call the campus police and ask some questions and get a description of Gemma's clothes. By this time, Gemma only wanted me to hold her. We asked if she had visited anyone or gone in the bookstore or if she came to eat lunch. Honestly, the official guys didn't have any clue how to talk to a 3 year old, but I get that they were just doing their jobs. For instance, when they asked if she came to eat lunch, she said "yes." But figuring they weren't getting the whole story, I asked her "where did you eat lunch," and she answered, "at home." They also asked, "Is your daddy tall?" Well, what daddy isn't tall to his 3-yr-old? We did figure out that he has brown hair and brown eyes because she told me that she has brown hair and brown eyes just like her daddy. I showed her that I have brown hair and brown eyes too, which she thought was pretty awesome. However, she didn't know her last name and couldn't describe anything in detail. All she knew is that she saw her daddy with the stroller right by her, and then he was gone. And with all the questions, she was getting more scared. So I showed her the funny pictures on the walls of the office while she told me all about her daddy.
Meanwhile, the student manager kept making announcements over the intercom for "Gemma's father [to] please meet her in the CougarEat Dining Office.
After about 20-30 minutes of hanging out with Gemma, we looked out the office window to see a man speed-walking toward the office. Seeing him, Gemma confirmed, "That's my daddy!!!" His foot was barely inside the door before Gemma leapt into his open arms, and he just held her, both of them finally releasing all the fear and frantic emotions they'd been holding in.  I could hear his gruff, choked "Where did you go?" between her sobs. It took quite a bit of self-control on my part to not get swept up in the moment and join the cry-fest.
But in that moment, I marveled at Gemma and her daddy. 
My heart burst for them, and I told Gemma's daddy how brave she was and that she was so smart to know his phone number (his phone screen shattered the day before). But I wanted to tell him so much more. I wanted to tell Gemma's daddy that everything was ok and that he shouldn't feel guilty. You could tell he'd been sick with worry and had been frantically searching for her. But instead, I just told Gemma that I was so happy she found her daddy and to have a good day. Her daddy whispered "tell her 'thank you'" and she quietly repeated, "Thank you," before I walked back to work, lunch-less.
When I recounted the story to Tucker, he responded, "You were that little girl's hero today. You were a mommy-figure and a friend, someone who could keep her safe until her daddy came." But really, I was just in the right place at the right time. With all that Gemma had told me about her daddy, I'd formed my own mental picture. But the man running up to the dining office didn't fit that image. This man was short and a rather round, hair cut short and balding a little bit. Totally, completely, and utterly average. And yet, to Gemma, he is her big, strong hero. Her favorite person in the whole world. The one who will always come looking for her when she is lost.


While I'm so glad this incident had a happy ending, it made me a little scared. I'm so glad I was able to comfort her and hold her hand and keep her at least semi-distracted while we waited for her daddy. But I'm not a child-abductor. It scared me realizing how easy it would have been, once she trusted me, to just walk off with her. And how easy it was to say certain things (telling her my name and telling her about Annie and asking about her favorite color) to get her more comfortable around me until she was completely clinging to me.
So I guess if we're to take a moral from this story, the first would be this:
Daddies, you are awesome. And even if you're not much to the world, you are the world to your children, especially your darling, 3-yr-old girls. They think you are the biggest, strongest, handsomest hero in the whole world. Please, please continue to let your arms be their safest place as they grow up.
And number two:
Parents, we gotta watch out for each other. I'm not talking about helicopter-parenting other people's kids and calling the cops on the mom down the street because she let her kid walk to a friend's house without supervision. I'm just talking about looking out for each other and our kids. Don't blame the parent whose kid wandered off. Don't judge the mom with the screaming baby who doesn't realize her toddler is eating all the Cocoa Puffs off the floor in the next aisle over. Don't roll your eyes at the mom in church who spends the whole hour walking in and out of the foyer with a different child in tow.
Just love. Love other parents. Love other children.
There is enough hate, envy, judgement, spite, jealousy, entitlement, negligence, abuse, and evil in this world.
Don't add to it by being the person who just walks by the frantic 3-yr-old, assuming her parents are negligent and that someone else will help.
Be the person who stops to comfort and console. Be the stranger who can spare two minutes or even thirty minutes to address another's needs. Be the daddy whose children never doubt his devotion to them.
Be the person who loves.
Be the hero.