No Weapon Formed (Boaz Brown) (13 page)

“What about both of
us—” the words got scrambled in my throat as I witnessed Daddy closing
his eyes, wincing with emotional pain.

“No. Just Stelson. You
remember how people showed their true colors over that little biracial girl on
the Cheerios commercial?”

My lungs deflated as I
contemplated his argument. People weren’t simply angry—they were irate
that General Mills had portrayed an interracial family as “normal” and loving.
Americans wrote so many terrible things on the YouTube page that a decision was
made to disable comments.

I had no doubt that Seth and
Stelson would pass for a white father and a white son. With me in the picture;
however, our chances of getting Seth back might be lowered.

Stelson’s hand on my shoulder
interrupted my train of thought. Immediately, I sprang to my feet and fell into
his embrace. When I finally stepped back to look into his eyes, my blood froze.
For the first time since this whole ordeal began, I could see that my husband
was worried.

“Honey, we’re going to do a
press conference,” I said.

“Yeah,” he barely answered.

“Will you do it?” I blurted
out.

He squinted. “Of course.
Let’s—”

“No. Just
you
,” I
stressed.

Stelson’s countenance
questioned further.

“Two minutes,” Pauline
declared.

I clutched Stelson’s arms.
“Listen. We stand a better chance of finding him if…if I’m not on the screen
with you.”

“Wh-what?”

I hated to have to spell it
out for him, but he obviously wasn’t getting the picture. I leaned in closer.
“The general public doesn’t respond to missing African-American children with
as much…
interest
as missing white children.”

Stelson looked past me, where
Daddy was sitting. Stelson’s face flattened as the entire picture must have
formed in his head.

He focused on me again.
“We’re going on.
Together
.”

“I’m not trying to be
politically correct, Stelson. This is our
son
. Right now, we gotta do
what we gotta do to get him back. We can change the world later.”

In the ten years I had known
Stelson, he had never given me the look I saw come across his face at that
moment. Nostrils flaring, mouth pinched, eyes drawn together. If he had been
anybody else, I would have ducked because usually, in a movie, that was the
look the sane person gave before they slapped some sense into the hysterical
person.

“We are doing this together.
In faith. Period.”

He took my hand and led me to
the makeshift press room, which was nothing more than a wooden bench with
microphones pointing toward the center.

Cameras flashed, lights
beamed, and microphones poked at Stelson and me as we stood with an officer I
had seen on television a few times already. Apparently, he was with public
relations, from the sheriff’s office.

He spoke first, “The missing
child is four-year-old Seth Brown. He disappeared while hiking through the
forest with his church group today. We’ve been looking for several hours now,
but have yet to find him. We’re asking for the public’s help. It’s possible
that he may have wandered to the outskirts of the trail and beyond.”

When he took a breath, the
reporters inched their questions in, all at once. One stood out above the
others, “Sheriff, does Seth have any food or water with him?”

“Yes. We believe he has a
bottle of water,” he answered.

The press clamored for
attention again, settling on the question, “How many adults were with Seth?”

“Numerous.”

“Then how did he get lost?”
one of them yelled.

“It only takes a second for a
child to wander away,” he defended us.

I guess the media didn’t like
the sheriff’s response. They fired questions at Stelson and me. We heard,
“Exactly
how
did he get lost?” over all else.

My husband responded, “We need
all the help we can get to find our son now.” Stelson squeezed my hand. “He’s
fun. He’s smart. And he’s got a baby sister who adores him. If anyone has any
information, if you saw him wandering near your campsite earlier today,
please
call 9-1-1. We thank you in advance for your prayers. And we praise God in
advance for Seth’s safe return.”

“Mrs. Brown! Does your son
have any experience with camping? Scouting?”

Stelson answered on my
behalf, and it was a good thing because the only thing coming out of me was
tears. “Seth is quite adventurous. Fearless. I’m sure he’s making an adventure
out of this whole event.”

Thankfully, they didn’t
pressure us much more. The sheriff took it from there, answering questions
about how long Seth had been gone, questions about the terrain and wildlife, to
which he replied that the area was not inhabited by many harmful animals.

Someone asked about searching
through the night. Helicopters. Planes. Heat-sensitive goggles. The sheriff
seemed reluctant to make any promises which, quite frankly, rubbed me the wrong
way. “We’re following the protocol for missing children,” was all he mentioned.

“Have you issued an Amber
Alert?”

“No. This case does not fit
the criteria for an Amber Alert.”

I didn’t even look at Daddy
because I already knew what he would say. Words like “protocol” and “criteria”
were the polite way of saying “red tape delay”; the kind of delay that doesn’t
happen when you know the right people, have enough money, or fall into a
certain group.

We, obviously, weren’t “in”
enough. And maybe it was all my fault because I hadn’t listened to my father.

Jonathan arrived just as
darkness settled on the park. He joined hands with Stelson and me, praying for
Seth’s discovery. He and Stelson talked with the sheriff and the rangers,
trying to think through how we could continue into the night. Evidently,
military people have some secret camaraderie that immediately makes them trust
one another. Jonathan’s background put him in the thick of the conversation,
giving Stelson a bit of a break.

 The swarm of media had
grown, but the number of searchers had dwindled down as people realized there
was nothing more they could do that evening. Ebby volunteered to take Zoe home
with her family while those who were able to stay waited for further direction.
Thankfully, I had packed more than enough formula and diapers.

Jonathan was intercepting my
cell phone calls so I wouldn’t have to replay bad news over and over again.

Family by family, my church
and the unselfish people who didn’t even know our names six hours earlier
checked out, promising to pray for us. Some of them even said they’d come back
if we hadn’t located Seth by morning. The rangers said, “We’ll be here.” as
though they had no plans to try finding him at night.

I turned to Stelson. “We’re
not going to leave him out there until tomorrow, are we?”

“Honey, it’s ten times darker
in the woods than it is out here,” he said. “They’re working on a plan B.”

“That’s not good enough,” I
said. “We should
all
be out there now. Let’s get some flashlights. Some
orange vests. We can’t let a four year old fend for himself overnight in the
woods. That’s ridiculous.”

“Equipment is on the way,”
Stelson tried to calm me, but he was making me crazy.

I wanted him to
go off
on these people. They weren’t doing enough to find my baby. Everybody sitting
around like we’re waiting on a shift change at a hospital. “Stelson, I need you
to—”

“Hey! We’ve got a plane
coming!” one of the reporters yelled. “A lady called in to the station. Said
she empathized with the mom. Donated the use of her private plane to find
Seth.”

“Bless her,” Stelson sighed.

This news breathed a second
wind into those of us waiting for the next step.

“Hello?” The ranger answered
his cell phone. “Yeah. We’ve got the manpower. Yeah. We’re on it.” He pressed a
button on his phone to end the call. “Folks, we’ve got a plane. We’ve got
everything we need to launch a night search. In some ways, this is better. We
can use a night vision apparatus to help us spot him. If Seth is anywhere in
these woods, we
will
find him tonight.”

Just like that, protocol was
overturned. God had given us favor with yet another stranger.

They called in some kind of
special operations team, notified air traffic authorities, and it wasn’t long
before we heard the plane flying overhead.

“Jesus, please,” I whispered.

Stelson took my hands into
his and prayed, “Lord, thank You for sending us help. Thank You, God. Your
timing is perfect, Your ways are good. Thank You for hiding him from all evil,
according to Your Word. Father, enable those who have been trained for this
experience to find our son. Father, position Seth so that he can be found. In
Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.”

“Amen” echoed from everyone
at our fly-by-night headquarters, including my father, who hadn’t said much to
me since I plastered my brown face on the screen.

For some idiotic reason, I
sat down next to Daddy while Stelson and Jonathan manned the walkie-talkies,
which were tied to a middle man who could communicate with the men in the
planes.

“How you holdin’ up,
Shondra?”

“Pretty good.”

“Yeah. You’re a strong one.
Always have been.”

I wasn’t sure what Daddy was
trying to say, but I didn’t have the energy to investigate what might have been
an insult.

“They’ve got a visual!”
Jonathan darn near screamed.

Instantly, we all hovered
around the sheriff as he jotted down the coordinates relayed on the
walkie-talkie.

I held my breath, waiting for
more news through the static-y contraption. “He’s mobile. Moving in a northeast
direction…”

Mobile! He’s moving! Alive
and standing on two feet!
I
don’t think I have ever been happier in my whole life. “Thank you, Jesus!”

Just then, an SUV from the
Texas Parks and Wildlife Department pulled up. Boxes full of helmets with
flashlights and what might as well have been canes, as far as I was concerned,
were distributed. A group of men, including Stelson and Jonathan, set out to
the designated area to retrieve my baby.

In the meanwhile, I got down
on my knees and knelt over the park bench, praying non-stop until the moment I
heard my husband yelling from the top of the trail, “We got him! We got him!”

I ran full force along the
water’s edge to meet my husband holding our child. The reporters ran alongside
me, with their equipment bouncing along the whole way.

Even with limited light, I
could see Seth’s little legs, covered in red splotches, dangling under
Stelson’s elbows.

“Oh, baby!” I snatched Seth
from Stelson and squeezed him. “Baby! We looked everywhere for you! Are you
okay?” I brushed his hair back to get a good look at him. His skin was littered
with insect bites, but he wasn’t swollen or feverish.

Seth scolded weakly, “Mommy,
I stopped to tie my shoe. And then you got lost.”

I kissed him profusely as
Stelson folded us both into his arms. Everyone clapped and cheered, slapped
high-fives and congratulated one another on a mission accomplished. Stelson
thanked them all.

Someone from the press asked
the lead ranger for the name of the person who had donated the plane. My ears
perked up for the answer.

“She wants to remain
anonymous.”

Stelson leaned over me and
Seth and prayed, asking God to bless her for her generosity.

Paramedics gave Seth a
once-over. We stripped my baby, thoroughly checking him for suspicious insect
bites or evidence of anything that may have burrowed into his skin. Seth was
given a clean bill of health and a sucker, which ripped off the paper stem.

He drank a bottle of water, tore
into a chicken leg and ate like…well, like a boy who’d been lost in the woods
for hours.

By the time we got home,
people were blowing up our cell phones even more than after the press
conference. Seth’s misplaced accusation about
me
getting lost made the
local hourly news and even a few of the national spots. Ours was the feel-good
story leading almost every broadcast. Seth’s blue eyes shined brightly despite
the evidence of his very rough day dotting his skin.

Stelson, Seth and I stopped
to collect Zoe from Ebby’s.

When we crossed the threshold
of our home, a flood of emotion rippled through me as Stelson and I held on to
each other and our sleeping children.

We both smelled like pure
funk, but I couldn’t let go. Couldn’t stop crying. Stelson released his bottled
pressures, too, by way of sighing heavily and simply groaning. Speechless. That
day could have turned out so much worse. But God.

Once my throat got unclogged,
I offered a prayer from both of us. “God, thank You. Thank You, Lord, for
returning our son. Thank You for all the people who came to help. And for the
woman who donated the aircraft. You are amazing. You amaze me, God. Thank You
for a husband who listens to You, without fear. And thank you for proving
Yourself to me, God, even though You shouldn’t have to. Amen.”

“Amen.”

We switched bathing duties;
Stelson washed Zoe in the sink and I took the liberty of giving Seth a soapy,
hot bath. He fussed, of course, because he was so tired he could hardly sit up.

“Seth, did you see any
rabbits?” I tried to amuse him.

“No,” he whined.

“Were you scared?”

“No.”

“Seth, honey, where
were
you? Didn’t you hear Mommy and Daddy calling your name?”

“Nooooo,” he cried, wiping
his eyes with closed fists. “Mommy, I want to go to sleep now.
Plee-hee-heease.”

I laughed because I don’t
think Seth had ever begged for sleep before. “Mommy has to give you a bath.” I
re-checked his ears, behind his neck,
every
crevice. I washed his hair
three times and raked through with a fine-toothed comb which, of course,
brought a low cry with a stream of tears from Seth’s eyes.

My baby was pooped, but I
wasn’t going to let him hit the sheets just yet. I rubbed ointment on his arms
and legs and doused him with Zoe’s powder.

“I don’t wanna smell like a
baby. I’m a big boy,” he protested.

“You sure are. And I’m proud
of you, surviving out there all by yourself for all that time,” I said as I
helped him step into his pajamas.

“I wasn’t alone.”

Terror shot through me. I
grabbed his arms. “Who was with you, honey? Did somebody—”

“God was with me,” he stated
with a face full of sincerity. “He told me not to be scared. And to drink my
water. But there’s something else, Mommy.”

“What is it?”

“Ummm…” he sighed. His eyes
closed involuntarily. “I had to do number two outside and I couldn’t wipe. Is
that okay?”

“Yes, baby.
This
time.”

I made it as far as the
kitchen before I broke out in a praise dance with no music except the fruit of
my lips. “God, I thank You! God, I bless You!”

When Stelson got out of the
shower, I told him about Seth’s literal wilderness experience with the Lord. He
joined me, kneeled beside me at the bed in thanksgiving.

“We bless You, God,” my
husband chanted, “bless Your name.”

“Yes, Lord,” I backed him up.

With Stelson having grown up
in the Assemblies of God and my roots in the COGIC, our posture was nothing
more than a picture of one of the good old-fashioned prayer meetings the older
saints used to have. No agenda. Just petitions, praise, and thanksgiving because
He
is
both able and worthy.

Though we were both pooped
beyond words, I snuggled up to Stelson and apologized for letting fear cause me
to doubt his leadership.

He kissed me. “We’re not
perfect.”

“Yeah. I know. But sometimes
I feel like you’re pretty close, Babe.” I thumped his chest.

“On that note, let me drift
off to dreamland because that’s about the only place I’ll ever be perfect.”

“I’m right behind you.”