Father, help me write this just like I feel it.
People like to think they’re perfectly capable of taking care of things on their own, coasting along until they hit the proverbial brick wall. They don’t want to bother God with trivial concerns.
Forgive me, Lord, but I haven’t any such qualms.
I pray about everything, even little things, all day long. Sure, I pray about the big things too—impossible things I haven’t anything in my power to fix, like people who can’t believe and don’t recognize truth. I don’t give up, and I’m sure God doesn’t either as long as I’m pleading for His mercy, but those little things…well they’re my daily conversation.
Lord I’m overwhelmed with the beauty of that boisterous boinging sun you just sent up all brilliant orange to hover over the sallow winter fields!
Yesterday, Clay came home for a two day visit. While we were rushing around getting everything done, She lost her cell phone. It’s a lifeline.
How is it possible, Lord, that we’ve become so dependent on technology to keep us safe and independent? But I know You understand. You, more than anyone, "get" this situation…
And so we looked. We searched. We tore the house apart…and the car. We retraced steps. We searched the grass where we had gone for a walk together.
If someone should stumble across it, Lord, don’t let them entertain the idea of replacing the sim-card with their own and thinking themselves blessed by the “finders keepers” mandate.
The last place she remembered holding her phone was on the street outside the orthodontist’s office. Could she have dropped it into the gutter? Or set it down on the window ledge and walked away oblivious? Not likely. Not Clay. We called her number. We listened in vain until the battery died and the dusk brought dismal frost.
Ah thanks, God, for a warm, comfortable bed and the blessing of sleep…and if it isn’t too much trouble…I know you do this all the time for me, but Clay is still missing that phone and I’m her mother and I just can’t help but feel responsible for it since I’m the one who insisted that we walk that route. Help me.
And I dreamed of lost lonely things until it was suddenly morning.
I woke with this clear memory in my mind: Clay saying “…unless it fell out of my pocket when I ran to catch up with you that time”. So, even though we had been over that very ground before, I took five minutes to return in my car and park nearby. I had five minutes. Five minutes before I had to leave for school. Five minutes in the dark, gray dawn, straining to distinguish anything on the wet ground where a cushion of wet leaves appeared black and soggy with discouraging frost.
Please, Lord, sharpen these eyes…
I turned to go. It seemed hopeless. Then I saw it—a leaf shaped like a frost-covered rectangle, black and blurry like all the other leaves. Leaning down to touch it, I wasn’t sure until the actual contact. The phone. It was her phone.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow! And Callooh! Callay!'Lord, I hope you don’t really mind that I quoted Carroll instead of a Psalm but I want to “chortle” in my joy!”
Next time I lose something, I’ll try it on my own a little longer; I’ll be more self-sufficient, Lord …or maybe not. There’s a part of me that never wants to give up our running conversation be it ever so mundane. And if I twitter on and on like one of your little sparrows sold for a farthing I still remember that you care for even them.