One day my little son Matthew and I trudged through the thick, humid soup down to the local Wal-Mart. Matt must’ve been about 4 ½ at the time. I put him in the buggy and we set out to get a few things. A sparkle caught my eye and before I knew it I was standing in the garden center, already transformed into a Christmas-themed winter wonderland and glowing in all its tinsel, glitter and twinkling lights. We slowly laced our way through the aisles, Matthew looked on quietly and I, leaning on the handle of our squeaky cart, gazed at all the holiday goodness. I got lost in the joy of it all. I momentarily lost awareness of the things going on around me while I daydreamed of a white Christmas and made mental notes of cookies I would bake, cards I would send and gifts I would give. Then we rounded the last corner and I was chunked back into reality. We went on through the store picking up mundane garbage bags, boring cat litter, a few uninspiring groceries and very definitely nothing sparkly. It wasn’t until we got to the checkout line that I realized Matthew didn’t have his Bobo.
“Matthew, where’s your Bobo?” I questioned my son. He looked all around him and he couldn’t answer me. “Did you leave it in the car?”
“I don’t know”, he said. And his precious face started to show concern. His eyes widened a little and his cheeks pinked up. Outwardly I remained calm but something was kicking me in the pit of my stomach. “What if Bobo is gone?! How could we even sleep tonight or go anywhere tomorrow!? THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING!!” I screamed to myself.
“It’s probably in the car”, I assured him calmly. “We’ll check out and then we’ll make sure it’s in the car before we leave”. His chin quivered as he nodded in agreement.
To most, Bobo could only be described as a blue blanket, raggedy looking and thin, stained with purple paint and dotted with a few crude, hand-stitched repairs. If anyone got close enough to it they could even say it smelled funny, depending on the last time it was washed. But to Matthew that raggedy blanket was his most important and highly valued possession. Bobo was his companion when he was lonely, his comforter when he was sick and his security when he was scared. It never left his side, it never hurt his feelings and it never failed to cover him. It did these things for Matthew not as a blanket does but as a loving protector does, like a shield or a shelter. But most of all, Bobo was his friend; a cherished and very much loved friend.
We reached the car. The anxiety built up in me as I tried not to think about a new world without Bobo. As much as Matthew loved that blanket, I loved it for him. How would my baby get to sleep tonight without that blue wad of material curled up under his chin? How would I console him? “Oh please be in the car”, I thought. I was nearly praying about it.
Bobo wasn’t in the car. We made our way back into the store and hurriedly retraced our steps. Perhaps it was in the Christmas aisles, where my mind’s eye was decking the halls rather than paying attention to the Bobo dropping out of the cart. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t in the pet department or the grocery aisles either. Bobo was nowhere to be found. I felt panicked and Matthew started to cry. I tried to reassure him we would find it and everything would be ok but nothing I could have said to him would have given him the comfort he needed. This was the kind of stuff that Bobo was good for. I saw fear that I couldn’t calm. I was “Just Mommy” and short of finding Bobo there was nothing I could do to make this all better. All I could do was stand there in a heap of nervous uncertainty and watch tears roll down my baby’s face.
The line at customer service seemed to be a mile long with early Christmas shoppers already returning stuff. This was an emergency and worthy of line-jumping, I thought. I tried to make eye contact with the overworked and exasperated cashier but she never looked up.
“I’m sorry, excuse me”, I interrupted, and the lady finally noticed me and my crying son. I could feel the glares coming from the people in line. I couldn’t blame them at all. Time is tight and a line has rules, no matter what kind of emergency a lady might think she has. “Has anyone turned in a dingy, blue blanket?” I asked the clerk as I stroked Matthew’s hand or rubbed his back trying to somehow soothe him. The lady held up a finger, signaling me to wait until she got finished with her current customer.
We stepped to the side and let her do her job. As I stood there with my crying and worried son the people in line seemed to soften their stares. They must’ve realized the situation we were in and I’m sure that many a parent could relate to a security item once loved by a kid of their own. And anyone with a heart could plainly see that my son was hurting. The shoppers were now invested in our plight and if a few more minutes were added to their already stretched-thin day, then so be it. They wanted us to find the blanket now as much as we did.
When the cashier finished with her customer, she said she would go check the lost and found bin. She returned within seconds empty handed. I was so disappointed. Then she said, “Let me look under here”, as she stooped over and walked down entire length of the customer service counter. I think I held my breath. She got to the end, stood up straight and with a blue blanket in her hand said “Is this it?!”
I exhaled and even burst into tears! Some precious shopper had found the Bobo and returned it! Matthew ran over to the lady, stretched out his arms and embraced his dear, found friend. “Bobo!” he exclaimed as the cashier smiled and cried. I thanked the lady several times, took Matthew by the hand and turned to leave. Then I noticed several people in the line were crying along with us, happy this little story of “lost love with a twist” played out with a happy ending right in front of them. Bobo was now safely back in the arms of the one who loved it the most and all was right again in Matthew’s world. And I’m sure that Bobo was probably happy also!
In Matthew’s eyes, the cashier was a hero. To me the hero was the stranger that found the Bobo and took the time to turn it in. They saw past its raggedy appearance and thought that just maybe there’s a sad kid out there who loved that misplaced, dirty blanket. I’ve heard many times a Bible verse that talks about “Love in Action” but I never really understood it until I saw love all over Wal-Mart that day. I saw it in my son’s breaking heart, the stranger’s actions, the cashier’s compassion and the emotion of the people in line. Even Bobo the inanimate object showed love by offering security again to a little boy who was afraid that his most loved thing was gone.
Matthew is older now and Bobo doesn’t get out much anymore. But there will always be love in his heart for that blanket - a special kind of love that will never be tarnished by hurt, distrust or betrayal. It’s love the way love was meant to be; innocent, pure, hopeful, trusting and kind. If only we loved each other in the same way a child loves his blanket!
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