I am not prone to panic.

I am generally the one that stays calm through the crisis, but the instant someone tells me everything is ok, I completely fall apart. I have seen this happen several times in the course of our marriage and most certainly as we have been parents.

This time was different.

I can’t explain it and I don’t know why, but I got totally caught up in the panic. Allow me to elaborate.

This particular morning was simply like every other morning, Andy and the boys were getting ready to walk out the door for school and as usual, our youngest had forgotten to make his lunch. He asked his dad to pick him up by the garage so he could get his lunch out of the extra fridge. It was agreed Andy would pick him up in the alley and off they went, Nathan out the back door, Noah and Andy out the front.

I shuffled around the house for a minute, locked the back door and headed upstairs when I heard pounding on the back door. I assumed Nathan had forgotten something so I ran to open the door only to find one exasperated Noah looking for Nathan.

That’s where it began.

He asked where Nathan was and of course I said I thought he was with him and the search and yelling began. We began to yell for Nathan all over the back yard and garage. Ok, I have to admit I wasn’t thinking completely clearly since I actually looked IN the garage refrigerator! Noticing our confusion, Andy jumps out of the truck and without hesitation yells for me to call the police. At this point I think I was dazed, but I did as he said.

As soon as I told the 911 operator, “I can’t find my son”, it hit me: Oh dear God! I CAN’T FIND MY SON! The realization was overwhelming. At a very frantic pace and in great detail, I told her exactly what he was wearing, where we lived and the gist of the situation. Oddly, I was almost irritated at the time that she was obviously not as worried about this as I was, didn’t she realize my son was missing! Hindsight, tells me it was a very, very good thing she wasn’t as emotionally charged as I was.

I hung up and once again started running around our house and yard looking for him and yelling his name. I instructed Andy to drive Nathan’s route to his school in hopes he would see him walking. All the while I am praying some desperate, pleading prayer to our Abba Father. As I was running to the phone to call the school, an unexplainable feeling came over me.

Peace.

Not the “it’s all ok, don’t worry about it” peace, but more of the “it’s ok to be scared, but this won’t end as horrifically as you’re thinking” peace. My natural instinct was to ignore it and just keep panicking. The moments between recognizing that ‘feeling’ and hearing the school secretary telling me Nathan had just walked in the school were mere seconds, yet they seemed to take an eternity.

In true Kathy fashion, this is where I totally lost it.

I burst into tears and thanked the secretary and praised and thanked our Heavenly Father, over and over. I was somehow able to relay the message to Andy that Nathan was ok and they got off to school, completely emotionally spent. I sat in the kitchen and trembled in silence. The crying was over and all I could think about is how thankful I was and about that ‘feeling’ earlier.

I believe that God was answering my frantic, desperate prayer for my son to be okay and was trying to let me know that He really and truly is in control.

I learned something: God doesn’t panic. Ever.

I’m not entirely sure what the purpose was for that chaotic scenario, but I came away with a greater appreciation of the verse that tells us to “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). He saw every tiny detail of our situation, from beginning to end. I called on Him and He answered, only I was too distracted to hear Him.

My prayer is that next time my nature wants to panic, I will have the faith to trust that He is God and He is in control and to not ignore the “peace” that He grants.

But for now, I’m going to go hug my kids.