My Feed

Because I spend so much time researching Project Lifesaver and other safety programs, the algorithm has filled my feed with story after story of children and vulnerable adults who have wandered from home. Most people see only the cases that make national news. I see so many of the others…the local alerts, desperate family posts, active searches, rescues, and heartbreaking recoveries that most people never hear about.

It is agony knowing that someone’s child, parent, or loved one is missing, even when families have safety plans, locks, alarms, cameras, and other precautions in place. Wandering can happen in a matter of seconds.

These stories break my heart, but they also fuel my determination to bring Project Lifesaver to our area. Through Erin’s Way, we are building a comprehensive and inclusive program that goes beyond providing tracking transponders. Our goal is to offer safety planning, education, preventative resources, and home safety items such as locks and alarms, helping families reduce the risk of wandering before it happens while ensuring rescuers have the tools and training to respond quickly when it does.

We also have some very exciting news to share within the next week or so. I cannot give away the details just yet, but this is an announcement we have been working toward for a long time. Stay tuned!

This poem, “My Feed,” is about the families behind those missing-person posts. The ones whose stories make headlines and the many more whose names most people will never know. Every one of them deserves help, compassion, and understanding, never judgment

My Feed

My feed is filled with missing faces,

one after another

names I wish I never had to learn,

stories I cannot scroll past.

A child wandered.

A vulnerable adult disappeared.

A family is searching.

A community is praying.

Too many stories do not end

the way everyone prayed they would.

Today, one little boy was found

alive in the water.

A police officer jumped in

and pulled him to safety.

For one family,

the phone finally rang

with the answer we all prayed for.

But in a separate incident,

another little boy was found

in the water, too.

He did not survive.

For his family,

the searching ended

but the nightmare never will.

Two missing children.

Two bodies of water.

Two families waiting for news.

One child rescued.

One child lost.

And then I made the mistake

of reading the comments.

Where were the parents?

Probably on their phones.

People need to watch their kids.

This would never happen to me.

They do not see the locks

placed high upon the doors,

the alarms,

the cameras,

the safety plans,

the programs,

the sleepless nights.

They do not see a parent

running on fear and exhaustion,

caring for other children,

making dinner,

folding laundry,

or simply going to the bathroom.

They do not understand

that wandering does not wait

for carelessness.

It waits for a second.

One unlocked door.

One alarm that failed.

One ordinary human moment.

A second is all it takes

for silence to replace footsteps,

for a home to fill with panic,

for a parent to begin shouting a name

they would give anything

to hear answered.

I know what the people commenting

believe about parents like us.

I once believed tragedy

belonged to someone else, too.

Until it came through my door

and took my little girl with it.

So I keep looking at my feed.

I keep reading every story.

I keep learning every name.

Not because it does not hurt,

but because it does.

Because behind every missing poster

is a family who needs help,

not blame.

Because prevention is not judgment.

Education is not accusation.

And compassion should never arrive

after it is too late.

My feed may be filled

with the stories of those who wandered,

but I will use their stories

to build locks,

create programs,

train rescuers,

and give families another layer of hope.

Because it only takes a second

for someone to disappear.

And the difference between

a rescue and a recovery

can be measured

in minutes.

One family received a miracle today.

Another received the news

no parent should ever have to hear.

Both deserve our compassion.

Neither deserves our judgment.