lost

I frequently can be seen stomping though my house, rummaging through stacks of stuff, banging dresser drawers open and shut, trying to find some misplaced necessity. Like sox, where do they go? Who would steal my sox? They certainly wouldn't fit my husband and unlike mischievous puppies, I seriously doubt Biscuit makes off with them.

Another disappearing act is spoons. There must be a spoon convention somewhere, because one at a time, they just leave our home!

These losses are an annoying nuisance. A few months ago, we had a heartwrenching loss.

Jen had come to visit with her sister and two friends. Jen is a beautiful girl, kind-hearted, humorous and loving. She has two delightful children, a boy, 8 and a girl , 4. I invited Jen and the others for a girl's weekend, as I wanted to do Jen's hair, and distract her from her painful loss.

Her beloved husband, age 34, had suddenly, unexpectedly had a heart attack and died a few months prior. I knew styling her hair would not fix her broken heart, but it is one thing I have to give. I wanted to express my deep empathy.

We had all gathered on my porch for some refreshments and were chatting away when Jen gasped, clutched her hand, stood and said with her voice shaking, "My diamond, the diamond fell out of my engagement ring. . . oh my God, Jimmy gave it to me. . ."

Forget hugging. What would that do? The four of us began scouring my driveway, the car they had driven here from Alabama, the house, couch, Jen's purse and suitcase, everything. I even got out a flashlight and we crawled on our hands and knees all around the car, especially the back, methodically searching, hoping the flashlight would reveal her lost treasure.

At one point, Leah whispered, "Hattigrace, look, could this be it?", her trembling hand cupping what we wanted to be the missing stone. It was a small glass bead.

I remembered a sermon about tokens and how God often gives something small as a token or promise of the real thing to come. I wish I had proclaimed my thoughts to the other girls, but I thought to myself, "If He could let us find this worthless glass bead, then surely He knows where the diamond is and will lead us to it."

Sounds good, huh? Like I was this great woman of faith. Ha. Not enough to speak it out to encourage the others.

My heart ached for Jen. She was sure God was mad at her, that was why she had suffered so many losses. She called her mother, who began asking for intercession from St. Anthony (thank you sista' Sara!)finder of lost objects. We kept looking.

Three and one-half hours later, we all gave up. Jen had cried herself out. We were exhausted, sweaty and discouraged. Again gathered on the porch, Jen looked at me and asked, "Well, Hattigrace, do you still want to do my hair?" I respected her so much for being willing to let it go and move on. And Leah had talked to her about praying and then giving it up to Him.

We all went into the house to gather our purses. I went out to the porch for something. Jen's sister was behind their car. She suddenly bounced up into the air, and with joy of joys shouted, "I found it!!" I really thought to myself for a millisecond she was cruel to kid with me.

She was not kidding. Where we had scoured for hours, the diamond suddenly was visible. The screams of rapturous happiness and gratitude rang through our neighborhood. I have never had bigger goosebumps in my life.

I finally hugged Jen. I finally cried. And she cried, big happy tears.

The glass bead was the token for the diamond. What is the diamond the token for? First given by Jimmy, now given by God. Jimmy pledged his life and love to his beloved Jen. How much more does God pledge to her?

Right now, I think Jen feels lost. I would too, most likely. But her Savior, Maker, Lord and Lover of her soul waits for her to bring her broken heart to Him . . . in Him, we are never lost. . .