If something is lost, misplaced, mislaid, whatever, my family knows that I will not rest. TV remote, computer file or my favourite pen – life stops until the thing is found.
In Chapter 15 of the gospel of Luke, Jesus tells three stories of lost things. There’s the lost sheep, a lost coin, a lost child.
The one I love is the story of the woman who lost a valuable coin.
I get it. It recently happened that I lost my bunch of keys. Keys for the car, house, usb key, PO Box. My whole life is on that key ring. Attached to the key ring is a small silver coin. A souvenir from a trip to the Tower of London, it is a replica of an English ‘groat’ from the time of Henry VIII.
It seemed that my key ring was lost when the car was parked outside the morning tea room at church, just two metres from the door. It was a very convenient spot for two of us to unload the cups and plates and soft drink cans we had used for an outdoor fundraising function.
We carried them up two steps into the kitchen. One trip, easy. Job done. Time for a cuppa and chat after the morning service.
It wasn’t until after the Other Half drove us home that I missed my keys.
Hhmm ... Check pockets, purse, under seats, in seat pockets, glove box, under mat, inside boot, toolbox, rubbish bag, shopping bags. No sign of them. Retraced steps between car and door. Another rummage inside the car.
Nothing. They must be in with the cups or cans; we’d have to check when we went back for Evensong.
I was most worried about the car keys.
Wireless keys are great when you’re trying to find your car in a big car park but that feature is also very useful to would-be car thieves! I had visions of a car thief cruising the area, pressing the key until the flashing light revealed the car.
The afternoon was spent puzzling and phoning a few people. And, of course, we prayed.
I have a friend who reckons that St Anthony is the best one to help with finding lost things but I prefer to go to the Top: to Head Office. I have always found the Lord Himself to be the best resource for finding lost things. I knew he would do it, but I had to be patient. Again.
It was quite dark after Evensong and a couple of friends joined the search. Four sets of eyes did a quasi-forensic search of the car: under, inside, opening hatches and moving cushions; poking into pockets, moving mats, rifling through bags. We checked the nearby drain and alongside the steps, all the time asking for a sign. Nothing.
Then one friend bent down to pick up something from the ground behind the car. ‘Oh look! An angel has been here. Here’s a feather they dropped.’ In her hand was a small, soft, white feather. ‘We’ll find the keys now, don’t worry.’
Yeah. Right. That’d be nice, I thought.
I know God’s angels are his helpers but I didn’t get too excited, despite feeling sure that we would find those darn keys. Eventually.
There was just one last thing to do before going home: I wanted to check with the person who had helped unload the car but I had not been able to reach her all day. I hopped into the passenger seat and reached for my phone in the pocket between the front seats.
I gasped.
There, on the driver’s seat, right next to the seat belt fastening were the keys, the small silver coin tucked under the buckle. In absolutely plain sight. I don’t swear, but if I did, I would be prepared to swear on the bible that that key ring was NOT there when all those sets of eyes were searching. Maybe that feather was a sign left by an angel?
Wow! Thank you LORD!
I yelled at my friends who were about to leave: ‘Found them! They’re here! In the car!’
There was much amazement and a prayer of thankfulness and I had to tell my friend that she was probably right about God’s angel who was missing a feather.
How amazing was that?!
As I held the key ring in my hand the small silver coin sparkled in the streetlight and I thought at once about the woman and the lost coin. Jesus told that story to illustrate how earnestly God seeks to find the lost, and how much he rejoices when the lost is found.
And we all rejoiced at the finding of the lost key ring, but the other beautiful message for me was that God cares about absolutely every aspect of our lives – even the small, everyday, personal stuff. He understands how important small things can be.
And ain’t that wonderful?
Sheelagh Wegman, BA, IPEd Accredited Editor is a freelance editor and production editor for the Tasmanian Anglican magazine. She enjoys people, writing and editing their stories, cooking, and singing in the choir of St David’s Cathedral in Hobart. She lives in natural bushland on the foothills of kunanyi/Mt Wellington.
Sheelagh Wegman’s previous articles may be viewed at http://www.pressserviceinternational.org/sheelagh-wegman.html