Is Our Son Lost in the Deep Snow?: The Space Between the Unknown and Known

Picture Taken with Son's Phone on the Mountain

Christmas passed a few days ago.  My Man and Son took advantage of a clear, pristine day on the Mt. Hood snowy slopes.  I enjoyed a quiet day with my girls. 
We were eating dinner and making play-do creations when the phone rang.
The one that stops you in your tracks.  
Makes your heart immediately go into erratic beats.  
Puts pretzel knots in your delicate stomach.  
Turns your brain inside and out so you can't think straight.  
"Hey, can you turn on your 'Find My iPhone' app?" My Man asks when I answer the phone.
"Sure.  What's going on?" I reply.
"We're looking for an iPhone," is all he can say before he needs to go and would call me back.  
The call ends. I turn on the app, and try to talk sense into myself but it sounds more like jumbled verbal throw up in my head.  And why is it that worst-case scenarios even arise?

....Surely My Man isn't looking for Son.  But what if he is? Did Son go off the beaten path and he's deep in snow?  Alone?  Hurt?  What the heck is going on?  It's getting dark.  You did tell them to take the phone in case they got separated. Is there a search party happening? My Man is there and he would tell me, right? He has things under control.  Or maybe he doesn't want me to worry?  Obviously, that's exactly what I'm doing! I'm ridiculous. 

My brain stops long enough for my heart to tell it a few truths: "Do not be anxious for anything but in every situation, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God" (Phil 4:6).  
I calm.  

I breathe.  

Even in this....presenting my jumbled verbal throw up to him...Don't. Forget. The. Thanksgiving.  That's the key for life.  That's the key that opens the door to a perspective we can't get when we're so consumed with our circumstances.  
And it's in the waiting, the space between the unknown and the known, that our true colors either shine against the situation exposing character that has been through this before and knows a faithful God who will never leave us nor forsake us, or they can blur together to form the color of murky mud and we wallow in the worry.  
In this moment, I fight against the mud and cling to the thanksgiving.  
My shaking hand sends a text comprised of four words.
"Did you find him?"
With every palpable beat of my heart, I have to know.
My Man immediately calls and tells me that he is with Son.
Utter, exorbitant relief.  
It's the darn phone that went missing...somewhere in the mounds and feet of powder snow.  And I don't give a rip about that rectangular electronic.
One run prior to the phone falling out of Son's pocket, he found someone's brand new Samsung Galaxy.  He turned that in, and now my boys wait for hours to see if anyone would do the same for them.  
Nothing.
Nada.
No phone located through the app either.      
When they walk through the door, I wrap my arms around Son's frame, look him in the eye, and tell him how much I love him. 

And tucked away in the minutes of this day, I was reminded to rest in the waiting.  Sometimes our waiting is milliseconds. Other times it's years, or a lifetime.  But the longer we wait and trust and press in and grow, the deeper our roots go down and our tree grows tall.  In the minutes today between my unknown and known, a place deep in my heart revealed I still have a long ways to go but also confirmed I've come so far.  I will rest in the latter knowing my life is always a work in progress.

And, as for what happened to the phone, that's a story for another day!