At the Jordan River, back story

When Ann was between two and three years old, I lost her in Orem, Utah's University Mall. It was a big mall, 135 stores. Trust me, I know. We had been on BYU campus, been to the MTC to see her big brother Wayne, and thought we'd spend some time at the mall.

We went in to Mervyn's together, I spoke to a salesperson, turned around and Ann was gone.

It had only been a moment, she couldn't be far from where I stood, but I was frightened. She was a cute little blond girl, and people were snatching little blond girls in the early 1980s. I asked the salesperson if she had seen where my little daughter went. No.

I went all through that store, asking anyone. No.

Mervyn's was at one end of the mall. Just outside its entrance was a toy store. That must be where she went. I went in, looked. No Ann.

Then I started a frantic search of the mall. Every store, every inch, calling her name when I could make myself say it. I do not know what I looked like, my face, but I was holding back tears. And I asked people had they seen her. No.

Back the other way through the mall. No.

Back into Mervyn's. I asked the woman who had been helping me if I could have an announcement in the mall. She said I could have it announced over the loudspeaker in the store, but I'd have to find the mall office to get something throughout the mall. So I started in Mervyn's, describing Ann and what she was wearing. They announced it, but it was no help.

Through the mall again. Many people. But no Ann. And I did not find the mall office.

I did not know what to do. We didn't live in Utah. We had no cell phones yet. No way to get help from anyone in Utah or at home in Idaho.  I thought about calling the police or at least mall police. Okay, I'm pretty independent, pretty convinced nothing bad should ever happen to us (you know), but this was bad, and I was ready for that. It had been a long time now, and she was just gone.

Yes, I was praying with every step, every breath. And by now I could hardly breathe for fear.

Then, on one of those whispered messages we sometimes get, a hunch people might call it, I went for the third time into the toy store. I went down every aisle, trying to smile at the guy who worked there but not able to. I think I said something to him the first time I went in. Had he seen a little blond girl? No.

And she was there, squatting down in a corner, looking at something important, I'm sure. I suppose she had been there all along, but my searches had taken nearly an hour. That's a long time for a two-year old to stay anywhere.

When I saw her, I collapsed onto my knees, gathered her up and cried and laughed. Ann did not know that anything out of the ordinary had happened. When I had recovered enough, we went back into Mervyn's so I could tell the now very worried salesperson I had found my Ann. We held hands from then on.