Lost and Found!

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After retiring from the ministry, I continued a habit I had relied on for decades.  I kept a calendar/workbook to organize my activities, and compile important records I would need at the end of the year.  

During the first eleven years of retirement, I traveled as an artist.  I also worked on staff in several churches, or served part-time pastoral appointments.  In my calendar/workbook, I recorded meetings, visits, events, attendance, and even honorariums.  I also had a contact list of key people.

The next stage of retirement involved becoming a caretaker for my wife as she dealt with a severe neurological condition.  My notebook came to contain an elaborate network of medical information, providers, and related material.   

During this time I also began writing.  My calendar/notebook, became the repository for pertinent information and contacts related to publishing.  

So, when a question arose Easter Sunday about scheduling something, I reached for my calendar/workbook.  It wasn’t on my desk, or in my car.  I practically turned the house inside-out trying to find it, to no avail.  It was gone!   

I tried to remember where I might have put it down away from home, and made some phone calls, with no success.  When I prayed about this, I felt an assurance that it would turn up.  I even had an intuitive picture in my mind of my workbook lying on a paved surface somewhere.  I called places I’d been, but no one had seen it.  No one had turned it in.

On Tuesday, I decided it was simply lost, so I bought a new one.  My wife and I called places to recover appointments we knew were scheduled in coming weeks.  Many clues were in my computer, but not a duplicate of the workbook.  

Tuesday evening I noticed my cell phone was turned off.  I found a missed call with a message from a man I’d never met, who lives near our home.  He had found a calendar/notebook along the heavily-traveled highway in front of our subdivision.  Seeing information inside that looked important, he started to look for the owner, ultimately calling me.

I called him back and we met a few minutes later.  I thanked him and gave him a copy of one of my Dinkel Island novels.  I also thanked God.  The book was in rough condition, having been through a deluge of two severe thunderstorms, and there were tire tread marks on it, so it had been run over.  Most entries are still legible.

Finally, I realized what had happened.  I had loaded some things in the back of my car on Saturday.  The calendar/notebook in my hand made it difficult to do this, so I put it on the roof of the car, intending to move it inside.  Then I went into the house for something before backing out of the garage and driving away–forgetting I’d left the notebook on the roof.

We have a low speed limit in our subdivision, so it rode on the roof until I stopped, then accelerated, pulling into traffic.  That’s when it came off the car.   Remembering this, I could identify the pavement I’d seen in my prayer/vision.  

The lost was found!  It was never lost to God, but it was to me.  When I prayed, but didn’t understand the answer, God sent someone else to recover it for me.  Thanks be to God!

In our bustling world of emotional frenzy and surface interactions, we sometimes miss the honest goodness that resides within most people.  I thank God for one good man’s efforts.  I hope I am as diligent for others.

Feeling Old

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It’s December 28th–three days left in the year!  The Christmas tree is still up.  The candles are still in the windows.  Even with the fireplace lit, there has been a bit of a chill in the air this season.

I miss Mom!

Except for two years when I was overseas in the Army, I’ve always spent some part of Christmas with Mom.  No matter where I lived, my family and I either went home, or she came to us.  When pastoral duties interfered with Christmas Day, I visited her for New Years.

The season has felt strangely silent this year.  I feel old.

I’ve known other times of loss, but Christmas didn’t feel this way on those occasions.  Dad died in 1999–on New Year’s Day.  We had watched him die slowly for years, receding into an Alzheimer’s world where we couldn’t go.  When he died I felt relief.  I didn’t feel old.

Of course, there have been other losses–my grandparents, my brother, Paul, and my sister, Merle.  There have also been aunts, uncles, cousins…and close friends.  Paul died of pneumonia in 1989.  Sis died from complications surrounding a diabetic seizure in 2002.  I didn’t feel old when they died.

Aging has been a mysterious journey for me.  I have looked into the mirror and found my father’s face staring back at me many times, but I never felt old.  I’ve been blessed with good health and energy.  I’ve explored my creativity through art and writing.  I’ve always seen the glass as “half-full.”  This year it seems to be “half-empty!”

Mom had an intrinsic vitality that captured and inspired others, including me.  She was a woman of enduring faith and courage.  She took challenges in stride as opportunities.  She suffered, but she also persevered, and you never felt that her suffering had defined her parameters.

She strode through life in deep companionship with her Lord.  When she made mistakes, she owned them.  No excuses.  No blaming.  When she stumbled, she picked herself up.  She always had time to connect with you, rejoice in your successes, and feel your pain.  I always wanted to be like her in those things.

In recent years when her resources were small, Mom found ways to give gifts that became her trademark at Christmas.  For me, it was always a small package of handkerchiefs.  For someone else it might be one of her “treasures” from a shelf, or perhaps a book.  She would hand me my handkerchiefs with a twinkle in her eye.  “I always know what a man needs,” she would say, then laugh.  What she really gave us were pieces of herself.

So here we are.  No great family gathering this year.  A few phone calls.  Mostly quiet remembering.  Before me the portal of a challenging year begins to swing open.  I look to God with gratitude for all he has given me, all he has taken, and all he has yet to reveal.  I thank him for Mom.

I miss her.  I miss calling to check in with her.  I miss occasional notes from her that would show up in the mailbox.  And yet…and yet I sense her presence still with us in the fiber of our daily lives.

And I feel old…as I should after seventy-nine Christmases past!  It’s about time!

Thank you, Lord, for each day you grant.  Help me to use each one well.  Amen.