1998

Whitney 7, Natalie 8

I stared at the ZipLoc bag, clouded with moisture. Inside were muddy shoes. I had placed them there for the dogs to sniff so that they would have the girls scent. By the time they called in the dogs the temperature was dropping rapidly and Natalie was only wearing a sweatshirt.

Why hadn’t they found them? It had been four hours and the helicopter had circled the area with their loud speakers shouting, “Natalie and Whitney Esson, age 7 and 8. If you see them, please call the sheriff’s office. Natalie and Whitney, we are looking for you. Stay in the open.” .....The air is frigid.

Right after lunch, we were deep in conversation with an animated missionary friend up in the mountains. Natalie and Whitney kept tugging at me asking if they could go to the top of the mountain. Finally, not wanting to miss out on our friend’s adventures in South America, I quickly say, “Yes, yes, go ahead, but be careful.” I thought they meant the top of the hill behind the cabin. They meant..."the top of the mountain.” Alicia who was ten stayed to hear the stories.

Half an hour later, I send Alicia trudging up the hill to check on them. They are nowhere in sight. Jim and I feel vaguely concerned so huff and puff up the hill calling loudly. There is a pretty steep drop off at the top and our eyes scan the brush below. We decide to follow the path. Muddy ravines stretch out continually to our left and numerous paths go off to the right as we hurry faster scouring the cliffs.

We search for an hour shouting their names repeatedly and more desperately. Worry runs through me like a current. I realize how easily you could lose your way as we hurry back with nothing clearly marking the many winding paths in these torn hills.

I remember the waitress at the donut shop who said this mountain has the highest percentage of child molesters of any place in California. The girls are level headed so it’s not the getting lost that scares me. I am praying now with more urgency. Jim calls the sheriff and our friends.

I’m caught somewhere between incredulousness, embarrassment and terror. I look totally calm and collected, however...well, maybe a little mist in my eyes. Two fixed wing aircraft are now searching and one helicopter. Ground crews have been unsuccessful. This can’t be happening.

Jim makes me stay at the cabin with a deputy and our missionary friends who alternately pray with me and reassure me with many stories of God’s faithfulness in their lives. There’s a knock at the door and an eager ranger type wants clothes or shoes for the dogs to sniff. Another knock and two female trackers, awfully young I notice, want me to identify the girls' footprints in the mud around the cabin to help in their search. I get the feeling this is their first 'for real’ search. It is almost dark now and the crackle of the deputy’s radio tells us the girls have not been found.

I’m shivering inside the cabin and wondering why they can’t find two small girls in such a small area. Strangers are kindly out combing the hills. The radio startles us. A man on a tractor, clearing land had seen two girls walking earlier.

“Where can they be?” I ask lamely. The deputies are obviously perplexed. We hear the helicopter but it will soon be too dark to see. I am still not panicky but I wish Jim would return. He is still out there.  I walk outside. The needle sharp wind stings my eyes. A police car arrives.

A friend confides she thinks they may have found them but they aren’t allowed to say. A little girl has called 911 from a pay phone in front of a liquor store and said she is lost. We wait. Yes, there are two girls. They have been walking for hours looking for civilization and a pay phone. I’m more than misty now.

Jim is not back. A crowd is gathering. Another police car arrives and in the back seat sit two of the most precious little girls I have ever seen. I snatch them from the car and strangle them with hugs. The officer says they too have been praying. “The guys were pretty worried,” he says, giving me a knowing look.

I’m amazed at all the Christians in this ‘heathen place’ the waitress had described. Whitney’s words rush out with a worried look, “Mom, we didn’t talk to strangers but we did wave to a lady with a dog.” I see Jim coming now, disheveled and breathless. His face is drawn and white from four hours running, walking, shouting, and agonizing for his daughters.

We stood in a ragged circle. We thank God for the men on the police force and the dedication of the search and rescue team. The crowd thins. Natalie confides, “We sat down on the path, held hands and prayed six times, Mommy." "We walked and walked in the mountains until we came out on a road with a yellow line.” She took a deep breath and continued, “I took off my sweatshirt and let Whitney use it for a pillow and we rested by a giant stump.”

Natalie adds that a policeman drove by and she put up her hand for him to stop but he just waved. I smile thinly. Whitney interrupts with a frown and whispers, “We saw a man on a tractor. He left his magazine and we picked it up, but we threw it back down cause it had bad, bad pictures.”

Natalie chips in, “We looked for a pay phone forever. I carried Whitney piggyback to keep her warm.” Whitney then divulges, “When we finally found the pay phone Natalie told me to be quiet and let her do all the talking.”

Our missionary friends sent us the front page headline from the Big Bear Grizzly after we returned home. It said among other things:

8-YEAR-OLD KNOWS WHAT TO DO IN EMERGENCY - CALL 911

“Some 20 searchers from the Sheriff’s station, Search and Rescue, Posse, on foot, horseback, motorbike and in a helicopter and all-terrain vehicles, combed the East Valley for some five hours. Meanwhile, the girls recognized that they were lost, found their way to Big Bear Blvd. and walked to the Liquor Junction store where they called 911 from a pay phone. The girls were unharmed.”