A friend sent out an S.O.S. email: please pray God would show her where she had lost her house keys. He did – showing her she had left them in the car.
Once upon a time, laden with bags of groceries, I hurried our kids into our home, because we were headed out again.
“Hurry, Hurry, Hurry” . . . my voice strained with impatience. I dropped the bags by the stairs. The kids stood back, as I whirled around the entry. “Where did I put the car keys? How could I lose them in less than two minutes?”
Maybe we should pray, my youngest ventured.
Nothing like a quiet, little voice to bring to a standstill a potential meltdown.
My prayer was not a wholly holy one. But as I finished, my foot brushed the brown paper satchel of groceries, and I heard the unmistaken jingle of my large key ring. The keys had slipped from my hand unnoticed, silently in the commotion I was causing.
I go nuts when I can’t find stuff. And it is with more frequency I misplace the essentials of daily life: glasses, my phone, the remote controls. (Never the pretzel jar)
Last week I “lost” the remote to our radio, for several days. That small voice, maybe we should pray echoed. I prayed – although not wholly holy prayers.
Once more on my knees . . .
Checking under the bed one more time, I asked God, where on earth had that tiny remote gone. Down on my knees, already I thought I’d look under the adjacent furniture. Guess what I found, way back under the bookcase upon which our radio rests, partially shrouded by dust bunnies?
I wonder if reflective duct tape wrapped these devices would help? Or, had I been a bit more diligent mopping, I might have found it sooner.
Getting down on my knees is sometimes the best mental health care I’ve found. Not talking – but listening – has solved more problems than I thought I had.
The Lord longs to hear all of our concerns — any concern too small to be turned into a prayer is too small to be made into a burden. ~Corrie Ten Boom, Clippings from My Notebook