We are so worried we don't know what to do.  Our eight-year-old son, Wylie Cole, is missing, and we don't have any clue as to what has happened to him or where he might be ...

It started two days ago.  Wylie and the family were at the park, enjoying a relaxing Sunday after church; it was a perfect way to unwind after the busyness of getting ready and then sitting through the demands of church.  We then went out to eat; after we did that, we brought the kids (eight-year-old Wylie, ten-year-old Feather, and thirteen-year-old Jasper) to the park, so they could burn off some of their excess energy.

All afternoon, my wife and I sat on the park bench, watching our kids frolic and scamper around.  It was magic; it was the perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

When it was time to go, we called Jasper, Feather, and Wylie to come, as we were getting ready to leave.  Feather and Jasper came, but ...  no Wylie.  We wondered if he was so engrossed in something, he didn't hear us call or what; it puzzled us.  That wasn't like our son; he usually came running once we called his name.  We called his name again.  Nothing.  A third time.  Still nothing.  Panic started setting in my gut as we called and called his name; there was no answer from our youngest child.

We spotted a policeman standing there; we went to him and explained the situation.  We then started searching for Wylie, along with the policeman's assistance, but nothing.  It was as though he'd disappeared off the face of the earth; we searched until it grew dark.  By now we were all frantic; we were scared that he fell into a deep ravine or got kidnapped; this wasn't like our son to disappear on us.

By the time we got home, we were inconsolable.  We were afraid that something terrible had happened to our youngest son.  I will never forget the sense of helplessness as we heard the policeman give the missing-child report over the radio:  "a small eight year old male was reported missing at Bridgestone Park; he'd disappeared approximately three hours ago, at four in the afternoon; when last seen he was wearing a purple Colorado Rockies jacket, faded grey jeans, brown shoes, and had short red hair and blue eyes."

I told our two remaining children to pray for their little brother.  I wanted to do the same, but I was having some doubts; if He really was God, he'd bring our son back to us, safe and sound. 

It was one of the worst possible things that could have ever happened to a parent:  to have one of their children seemingly vanish from underneath their nose.  What made it worse was we were right there at the park when he disappeared.  We didn't see any suspicious characters trailing Wylie; he'd gone into the woods located at the perimeter of the park, and that was that.  That was the last time we'd seen him; that was roughly about fifteen minutes prior to when we were going to leave.

*End of part one.*