My children and I recently had the opportunity to travel to Chattanooga, TN, for a few days to visit with a friend who had moved to Nashville. She was meeting another friend in Chattanooga and was going to stay for a few extra days to enjoy the sights. Knowing that my daughter would love to see one of her dearest little friends, I jumped at the chance to meet up and surprise the kids with a trip to the Aquarium there. This would be trip without my husband- something that both excites and frightens me. There’s just something about traveling with only my children that makes me feel independent and strong-and yet irresponsible and stupid at the same time. Had we not arranged to meet others there I would have made it a day trip and not an overnighter!
Anyway, we loaded the car and set off on our drive. This was about a two hour drive, give or take, and it was relatively easy considering all our potty stops. We find the hotel, meet up with our friends, go to dinner, and start planning the next 48 hours. After waiting what seems like an unreasonable amount of time for our food, we head back to my friend’s hotel and let the kids swim. We are all exhausted and grumpy by about 11:00pm (totally reasonable, considering) so the kids and I head back to our hotel.
Now I don’t know whether any of my readers are parents that regularly allow their children to sleep in their bed with them. I am not one of those parents, and knowing (or figuring) I would be sharing my bed with at least one of my dear children, was not really expecting much rest to be had. I couldn’t have been more accurate. To summarize in one long run on sentence-clock set wrong(it was really 2am, not 3am), kicks, giggles, wiggles, VOMIT (her first ever), middle-of-the-night bath, VOMIT, another change of clothes, more VOMIT, crying, out of clothes, alarm goes off. Yawn.
So off we go to the Aquarium. Apparently everyone else in Tennessee is SANE because the place was deserted. It was seriously cold outside. We get our (not cheap!) tickets and head to the newest part, the Ocean Journey. This section has a hands-on tank where visitors can reach in and touch Horseshoe crabs, Manta rays and Dog sharks. Little clown fish were swimming in there, too. It’s quite lovely, from a safe distance. And the employees are very good about warning you that the water is deeper than it looks (maybe 2.5 feet?) and that kids fall in all the time because they reach for the fish and don’t realize how far down they have to reach to touch them, and lose their balance. It did make me more aware of where my kids were at all times, but I wasn’t that worried about it.
This level of the center also has a butterfly sanctuary which the kids also wanted to visit. My group (3 moms and 9 kids) was soon ready to move on to the butterfly area. Since I couldn’t take the stroller in that area I had set it off to the side to unload my 2yr old and try to balance the thing with all the coats, etc on it. I told my little one to stay right next to me as I rearranged the stroller (again) and when I turned back around to take her to the butterfly area, she was gone. I didn’t flip out because I figured she had probably followed her brothers to the butterfly room. I made a quick glance in my immediate area and didn’t see her so I shuffled on toward the butterflies. I could see my group ahead and didn’t see her there and started to get a little more worried. Again, the place was not crowded, but there were enough natural hiding places and employee doors here and there to easily sneak away with a two year old. I saw nothing that caught my eye as suspicious behavior from anyone as I’m trying to figure where she has gone. I remember that she was assaulting a clown fish earlier, so I book it over to the hands-on area hoping, that she hasn’t gotten to the water. I can’t find her anywhere in the growing crowd. Her black turtleneck and jeans could completely blend in with both the water and the rock-backdrop. Just as I’m calling her name again and do a more detailed scan from afar, I see her standing on a booster ledge reaching, r-e-a-c-h-i-n-g into the tank to get that clown fish one more time, and PLOP, in she goes! Because she is short, she hasn’t fallen in completely; she has suspended herself at the waist on the plexi-glass enclosing the tank and has swung like a pendulum into the water with her face and upper body completely under. Her legs are kicking but she can’t reach anything on which to get a grip. I’m am sprinting to try and grab her, when a teenage boy facing the opposite direction from her sees me coming and, knowing he’s closer, grabs her out of the tank and hands her to me. She is choking and coughing and crying but alive! Oh, thank you, God! She was dripping wet, of course, and shivering to get out the words “Me fah in!”. As I dried her off, I told her everything would be alright and she would be fine, in part to reassure myself. I also used the opportunity to gently reminded her of how important it is to obey Mommy. If she would have obeyed and stayed right with me like I told her to, she may not have fallen in. I know she’s only two, but it’s extremely important to take obedience seriously. She received a (very!) natural consequence for disobeying (she even had algae in her teeth) so I let it go at that.
As I said, my girl was dripping wet, head to toe. It’s freezing outside. She had thrown up on every piece of clothing I brought to Tennessee. I couldn’t take her through the rest of the Aquarium in those wet clothes, much less all the way home. There may have been some pride issues, too, as I was the mom with the child with dripping wet hair as they announce “Keep an eye on those kiddos, we just had one go in!” (I’m still standing at the tank). And then I remember that my friend had just given me a bag of clothes for my little one for the spring. I look through it, knowing that she said it was only shorts and shirts-Summer stuff, but really praying that there is something that will keep my baby warm enough to get through the Aquarium and to the car. Please, something, God, anything! There, in the bottom of the bag was long sleeved jammies and a long sleeved dress! Thank you, Jesus, for being in control of all things! I get her changed and meet my friends in the Butterfly Room (they have no clue any of this has happened) and when they see her wet hair they both gasp and exclaim, “No!”. I nod and say “Yes!” and try to fight back tears of embarrassment and relief and exhaustion all at once. I’m not successful, but as I recount the events of the last few minutes, I get a peace that God had His hand on this whole experience:
That young man was right there to rescue my little girl!
My baby was alive and well!
My friend did not even recall putting those clothes in the bag!
God had brought me to the end of myself the night before and that eventful morning. To everyone who gave me a funny look or a critical eye I could joyfully smile and tell how God had kept her safe. He had even dressed her (did I mention that they matched?). And even more important, he had taught us both about challenging authority and acting in the flesh.
My baby girl stood right with me for the rest of the day.
And it was a great rest of the day.
). I just don’t want someone to misunderstand me or what I’ve said and be offended. Is that prideful? You know, I have never thought about it, but maybe it is. I’ll have to ponder that and write another post about what I conclude.
