I lived a harried, yet monotonous life back then. Supporting my husband as he worked long hours...and as he played long hours too. Teaching two energetic young boys while caring for a toddler and an infant. Leading worship, coordinating MOPS, learning how to cook more healthfully. I was sleep deprived and a little out of sorts a lot of the time. Almost a decade ago.In the mayhem of one of those days, I lost my keys. I looked everywhere. I retraced my steps. I tried to convince Philip that I had indeed carried out those two strategies. (tiny sheesh) "Yes, Honey....I looked there....Yes, Philip....I checked there too....No, Sweet.Heart.Darling.Friend.of.MINE....I did not take them outside."
At the end of the day, all I knew to do was pray. "He owns the cattle on a thousand hills" was lolling about in my brain, and I thought, "Surely, He knows exactly where my keys are."
"Dear God, please show me where my keys are."
"Dear God, I know I can go make copies of Philip's keys and we'll be good. I know this is not a drastic need. It's just frustrating to not be able to find them when I know they MUST be here somewhere."
"Dear God, PLEASE show me where my keys are."
My home-bound schedule allowed three full days of prayer before I would be forced to make a new set of keys. I prayed and prayed. I taught and fed. I planned and rocked. Then I would pray some more.
As I drifted off to sleep that third night, I whispered, "Dear God, I'm not sure what we're doing here. You know where they are. I've begged You to show me. I BELIEVE You could carve a brand new set and leave them in my purse for me... Can I PLEASE find my keys? PLEASE..."
A few hours later, I awoke suddenly to a clanking noise. I could only describe it as metal on glass. I gathered my wits and thought, "It's the Lord! He has picked up my keys and dropped them against something so that I can find them." I jumped out of bed and ran around the house checking every glass table top, the mirrors, the china cabinet. I was so excited that He had heard my prayers and that I was finally able to hear in return.
No keys. Anywhere I looked.
I went back to bed. I brought the covers up to my chin and held back the pout.
"That was crazy," I thought. "I'm crazy." "I'm hearing things. It seems like God doesn't care, but I don't FEEL that. Not only do I feel like He cares, I KNOW He cares. But this is almost crazy."
I repeated my confusion to the Lord, and even though my situation was upsetting, I consciously chose to rest in Him. In His Goodness. In His Character. In His Promise to work all things for good for those of us who know Him.
I fell asleep.
As the alarm buzzed and children stirred, I immediately replayed the mid-night events and conversations. I quietly gathered the chattering children and began to fix breakfast.
As we thanked the Father for our cheerios and milk, I silently murmured a short tag prayer with one eye glancing upward toward Providence. "You know I'm a little disturbed right now. You don't make very much sense sometimes. I feel a little silly...what with noises in the night and hope held high. I don't even care about my keys anymore...I just want you to tell me what You know!"
(my "short tag prayers" can get a little carried away)
Later that morning, I went to tidy my room. I picked up my tennis shoes and tossed them toward my closet floor. They hit a toy or something. With an armful of clothes to hang up, I leaned over to pick up the toy. From within my closet I noticed an old mirror leaned against the wall behind my dresses. "Ahh, the only glass in the house I didn't check last night. (Could it be??)"
I laid aside the clothes from my arms and knelt down on all fours. I moved the sweatshirt that was on the floor in front of the mirror. Lying on the carpet, against the glass were my keys. Seriously!
One of the darlings must have taken them out of my purse and ended up in my closet playing. Or maybe God took them from where they were lost and tossed them against the mirror inches from my bed so that I would wake up and find them. Either way, it's all good. He's all good.
*****
The Psalms are filled with cries to God for help. Faith and hope are based on God's character and His track record....the marvelous things He has done in the past. He is unchangeable.
Today, I remember this tale of lost and found, knowing my vanished wedding ring is far more valueable than those silly keys. If He went to that much trouble to journey through the search with me back then, won't He do it again?
If He chose to speak through dreams or noises to help me find my keys, shouldn't I rest in the knowledge that He can and may do it again for my wedding ring.
Yes. So we rest. We live our lives - with intermittent spurts of rattled rummaging - and hope in His power and LOVE. And we pray without ceasing.
"Dear God, Please show me where my ring is. Pretty please."
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