"Forever a lost boy at last": Musings of a Lost Boy

“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.”

The grill is on, and the table is full: Rediscovering Church under a Tailgating Tent

The grill is on, and the table is full

I’ll be honest.  I only started tailgating 8 years ago because my husband wanted to.  Don’t get me wrong.  I absolutely love college football, but in Texas heat in the early fall, I had never considered why in the world I would possibly want to spend 5 extra hours in the heat rather than watching the game in my air-conditioned living room.

However, he wanted to, and I joined in.  We bought the food, set up the tent, and sweated.  At first, it was just the four of us tailgating—Anthony, me, and the boys.  Sometimes, it was just the two of us when the boys were with their dad. 

As the years progressed, however, the tailgating crew grew.  We met people from the neighboring sites.  We invited people from our lives to join us. Sometimes we have only had 2 attend, and sometimes we have had 30 or more.  We have sweated---and sometimes frozen—and sometimes we have even gotten wet and muddy. 

What I have recently realized, though, as sacrilegious as it sounds, is that I have rediscovered the true meaning of church under that tailgating tent.

Here are some of the things I’ve learned under that tent:

1. All are welcome under our tent.  Our tailgating crew is made up of staunch Republicans, liberal Democrats, gun-toting Texans, and those who hate guns.  Teetotalers and drinkers, black, white, Hispanic, old, young, single, divorced, and married all spend time under our tent.  Godfearing churchgoers meet with those who wouldn’t attend church if they were paid.  Those who smoke and those who don’t, those who curse, and those who wouldn’t dare all find welcome here---a welcome without judgment. 

2. Despite our different backgrounds, we are all part of a human family.  Our crew comes from various paths of life.  Some of our crew are co-workers or former co-workers or children of co-workers.  Some are those in neighboring tents like Brad and Lisa who enjoy the shade for a while and have become our “autumn” family.  Some of our crew actually are just passersby who come to ask questions about the grill and then find a welcoming seat.  We have welcomed people we have met on Twitter, those we know through our kids’ school, and those we know from past life connections.  We have even had our regulars invite people they know and the “autumn” family grows.  Our crew often finds themselves sitting next to perfect strangers, as people from various walks of lives share moments under that tent, and yet the conversation continues.  Despite the differences, as far as I know, no single argument has ever arisen, and no one has felt left out or unappreciated. 

3. Whether we know each other well or not, we give of what we have to others.  A little over a year ago, a wind storm came out of nowhere.  Jill and I were the lone lingerers at the site, and the tents went flying.  Perfect strangers came and helped us take down the tents.  Then, we, in turn, went and helped other neighbors.  If we have “newbies” show up nearby, people from various sites come over to help them set up their brand new tents.  If someone nearby forgets an item, we share with those around us.  We have shared phone chargers, fingernail clippers, trash bags, and of course, we have shared food.  Whatever any of us have on our table is open to our neighbors.

4. We each contribute our strengths.  Anthony, of course, is the grill master and the extrovert.  He shares his food and his plus-sized personality with literally anyone who walks by.  As the introverted organizer, I buy the food, prepare the lists, and try to make sure everyone is taken care of.  Others contribute their muscles to take down the tents and chairs.  Tammy provides the deviled eggs.  Others like Jill and Paul are the conversationalists who can talk to anyone about anything.  We each seem to find our place to make the tent a welcoming place.

5. What happens under that tent is real.  No masks need to be worn.  When we are all stinky and sweaty in 100-degree weather, who needs to pretend to be all “put together”?  With out-of-place hair and wet foreheads, our flaws and dysfunctions are very apparent.  We have laughed, talked, and yes, even cried under that tent.  We have shared personal details that would make some blush.  We have talked about our families, our less-than-wonderful pasts, and our fears about our children.  Yet, I haven’t heard one single remark that is anything less than loving for the one going through the difficulty.

6. We don’t get hung up on the little things.  If University of Texas is playing Baylor, we accept jerseys of both colors under our tent.  Everyone is welcome.  We laugh and tease each other, but in the end, we know that the school color, the jersey, and the loyalty is not what matters.  Rather than focusing on the differences, we focus on the similarities.

So, when you see me next fall writing a Facebook post about surviving the heat of the fall a mere 8 hours before the game, or when you see a picture of all of us bundled up and gathered around a fire pit, eating chili on a 30-degree morning, you will know why I do what I do. 

Church is not always held inside a building with stained glass windows.  The truths of Jesus can even be found under pop-up tents.  As a churchgoer and minister for years, I often lost Jesus in the sanctuary.  However, I know where you can find that type of love and acceptance this fall if you’re interested. 

Join us under the tent.  The grill is heated up, and the table is full. 

You have a standing invitation.