My husband, Steve, and I went to pick Dad up for church, right at 9am as planned. Instead of waiting inside the Board and Care where Dad lives (where he should have been and will remain in the future!), he was walking down the street…close to the freeway!

We turned the car around…but when we reached the area where we had seen him, he was gone.

In that one minute time period…a couple passing by had recognized him (a miracle!), picked him up and taken him to church. Dad willingly got in the car (which is the scariest thing of all to me).

Turned out the good Samaritans were friends of my older brother. They called my brother–45 miles away–who called me on my cell phone as we were searching the streets…JUST before I called the police.

I thought I was handling the crisis calmly, but as soon as I heard Dad was safe, I started to cry. I felt like a duck, calmly skimming the water’s surface, with feet paddling madly underneath the surface.

Steve and I raced to church and found Dad happily singing away to the hymn, seated next to my brother’s kind friends.

I slid into the pew next to Dad, hugely relieved. He seemed pleased to see us, oblivious to the fact that he had caused a wee bit of a concern.

I couldn’t help but admire how much church means to my dad.

He didn’t want to be late and he wasn’t going to miss it, even if it meant he had to walk miles to get to it. (Never mind the fact that he didn’t really know how there…he just knew to head south.)

His mind is fading away, but his soul is growing stronger.