So, last Friday night I lost my keys.
Maybe you’re the type of person who never loses anything, but I’m going to tell you this story anyway, because maybe it applies to you in some other way.
So, right: Last Friday night we attended a Wine/Golf outing that was a ton of fun. And, of course, since I wasn’t drinking, I was the sober one. If there were other sober people there, I didn’t see them. Yet, somehow, I managed to be the only one [to my knowledge] to wake up the next morning with no car keys. [We used Lee’s keys to get home, in case you are very confused right now.]
And this really upset me. Do you get upset when you lose things? I’ll even say I was beyond upset. I was frustrated and angry. I tore the house apart, called everywhere I’d been, accused Lee of being the one to lose them, everything.
But I also prayed about it.
Now, there have been times in my life that praying over lost car keys would have been something I’d roll my eyes about: Yeah. Good luck with that. God reeeeeally cares about your stupid car keys.
But I’ve learned in recent years that God cares about all sorts of things, and it’s really not up to me to decide what may or may not be worthy of God’s care. So, I prayed about it.
Please please please please please let my keys turn up somehow. If anyone can make it happen, I know you can.
PS. If you can’t make my keys turn up, could you take away my anger and show me the lesson here?
PPS. I wasn’t even DRINKING.
And then I let it go. One or the other of those two outcomes would occur, and I was content to wait and see which one it was.
On Thursday night, the YMCA called. A lawn service man had found my keys in the street, called the number on the back of the membership card attached to my key chain, and would like to return them.
On Friday night, I had my keys in my palm and tears in my eyes. And I got my lesson, too.