At the Jordan River, front story

It's a long walk from the bus to the river.

The Jordan. Remember?

The path is good, but it has curves and dips and rises and a few turnoffs. Ann took one of the turnoffs. I think there was a sign on that turnoff--RESTROOM--and that was of interest to Ann. I kept walking, slowly, knowing that Ann would easily catch up with me.

About a hundred yards down the path, when she didn't come, I stopped, deciding just to wait for her. She shouldn't be much longer.

I waited another ten minutes. No Ann. I wondered if she had found another way to the river, so I went on quickly. Quickly because the path turned and there was a rise about 300 yards ahead, and once over that rise, Ann, if she was still behind me, would not see me.

She was not at the river.

I went back. Traced my steps along the path, waited again, asked the last few in our group who were coming along, but no one had see Ann. This was familiar.

After another ten minutes I began to worry. I mean, how could she get lost here? But clearly, she was not coming. I went back to the turnoff, took it, and followed that path a long way, calling her name. She did not respond. I saw no restroom, and I saw no Ann.

I went back to the river. Lindsey (the young Fun For Less rep who traveled with us, actually the daughter of the owner) asked if something was wrong. "I can't find my daughter. I've been back and forth and do not find her. She turned off back there, but I've been there and she isn't there."

"Go sit down," Lindsey said, clearly not concerned. "I'll find her."

Obviously, Lindsey has no children. Like I could go just sit down and relax by the Jordan. Like, yeah, sure. I did go to the river. Michael was lecturing. I didn't sit down. I kept turning around, looking. I couldn't pay attention, didn't know what he was saying. I left.

I went back to the path and began another search. Lindsey was out there, but I didn't even know if she knew what Ann looked like.

I cannot know how long all this took, too long. I told myself that my fears were irrational. Ann is an adult; people on tours don't get lost. But I was worried anyway.

Of course, I was praying.

Back to the river, then back to the path, and this time, when I came up the rise, there was Ann walking toward me, not alone and not on the main path.

Jay Wallace and his wife

I didn't know the man who walked with her.  But I know him now. He's Jay. I know that at that moment he looked very good to me. He had found Ann.

We hugged--Ann and I. She had indeed been lost. This time she knew it and was very glad to be found. I could see the relief on her face. Maybe she could see the same on my face.

We went to the river. Michael was nearly finished speaking. We took pictures. I felt good.

See how good Ann looks.

The very last night of our tour, the night before we took off for home, eight of us ate together at the Cinco de Mayo restaurant in our Amman, Jordan hotel. The Shorts, the four Johnsons, Ann and her mother, and Jay and his wife. Halfway through dinner I said to Jay, "You will always be my hero."

"Oh? Why is that? he asked.

I pointed to Ann and said, "Because you found Ann." He shook his head and laughed. Ann laughed.

"You don't understand, Mom," she told me. "He didn't find me. We found each other and just stuck together. We were both lost."