“Neverland, I love you so
You are now my home sweet home
Forever a lost boy at last”
One of the most terrifying moments of my childhood came when I got lost in a store. One moment I was beside my mom, and the next, I had no idea where I was or where she was. My vulnerability and aloneness was terrifying.
In the past 30 years, I have gotten lost several times. I have had many moments in which I felt that same vulnerable, “alone” terror---when everything I believed to be true and permanent was suddenly and irrevocably changed or torn away. Whether it was the loss of my father, my divorce, the loss of a job, questions of faith, hurtful choices made by children, or the betrayal of friends, I became vulnerable all over again.
In those moments, I again felt like that scared little child wandering the store aisles, crying, desiring direction, and hoping to feel safe and secure all over again. However, as an adult, no matter how much I cried or searched, the world had forever changed.
In 2016, Ruth B. began posting online only one line at a time of her soon-to-be-hit song “Lost Boys.” I love her beautiful, smoky voice and the haunting piano accompaniment, but the song by this unknown artist became a hit because it spoke to a secret hunger that is in all of us. We all secretly ARE Lost Boys, and we all desire to find our “home, sweet home.” (To listen, visit https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=58TBZnvyGwQ.)
In the Peter Pan legend, Lost Boys were children who were found lost or who were abandoned orphans---the ones who were the rejects and leftovers. The promise of Peter Pan and Neverland for these Lost Boys was they would never have to grow up, never have to face reality, and never be lonely. They were rebels to the normal order of things, and although they were “lost,” they were suddenly found.
Once upon a time in the early days of my life story, I thought I knew the world and how it worked. I thought of myself as strong and invulnerable. Right and wrong were very clear to me, and I was driven to try to set the world straight. I was clear on my direction in life.
Then, I became a Lost Boy. The brutalities of life hit. I wandered up and down the “aisles” of life and discovered just how lost I was, including one time I literally collapsed onto a bottom shelf in the Sam’s Store in Waco and broke down bawling. The Kim I knew was gone. The Lost Kim was what remained.
The funny thing is that once I became Lost Kim, I found other “Lost Boys”—people who were vulnerable and confused and wanting to discover their own versions of Neverland.
I hated being lost as a child. I used to hate being Lost as an adult, and many of my crying prayers were requests to be “found” again.
However, that is not my hope any more. I like Lost Kim.
Just as I have discovered some of the most amazing little spots and restaurants when I have become lost while traveling, some of the most amazing people I have met have been Lost Boys.
Some of the qualities I have found to be true in relationships with these Lost Boys are:
- You can be honest, and others can be honest with you.
- You don’t judge others for their stories because you realize that each of us is lost.
- Because you have been Lost yourself, you are not restricted by all the “should’s” and can just listen to others.
- You are free to just be there for others.
- You have no idea what tomorrow will hold, so you try to create your home where you are.
- You don’t have any quick advice, clichés, or glib comments to make because there aren’t any.
- You don’t know the right direction to go, so you don’t try to tell others where to go.
Lost Boys come in all races, genders, and ages. We have each arrived at this stage of Lostness from different walks of life, from watching our child we love suffer from health issues, from realizing one morning that we are abused, from suffering from a childhood with a bipolar mom, from living through the sudden departure of a husband, or from suffering a tremendous loss.
Regardless of appearance or our previous life experiences, we Lost Boys tend to recognize each other. Lost Boys recognize in others the less-than-assured walk, the open eyes, and the slight nod of the head as we make eye contact. Then, as Lost Boys do, we walk beside each other, supporting each other along the way. No clichés. Just statements like, “I am here,” and “I hear what you have said.”
If you, too, happen to lose your way and feel like a Lost Boy, look beside you. I guarantee there are several Lost Boys around you.
We are everywhere.
I am assured of one thing. I am a Lost Boy, and honestly, I never want to be found again if that means being so self-assured that I lose my ability to find other Lost Boys.
I am “forever a lost boy at last.”
