I don’t know if it is a talent; however I can have something in my hand, put it down, and it vanishes. At one school before I wore glasses all the time, I had a $1.00 reward for whatever child found them. It cost me about $4.00 a year. Well worth not having to search. The same school had a secretary who consoled me with nothing was ever really lost. I had this vision of reaching the Pearly Gates and having to go through the Enteral Lost and Found before I could enter. At times the lost item casts a wider ripple than just finding that object.
Friday before Memorial Day was a golden day. I had a list that flowed like spilled mercury. Breakfast with a friend, picked up ordered groceries, and got them put up. Time for a nap (a genetic necessity). I did a little business and letter writing and made a post office run to wrap up a day of check lists.
I looked forward to Saturday. A source came to collect a couch whose removal would make room for a treadmill…stay tuned for that story…and gave a small end table I no longer needed to a daughter who did. Everyone left, and I was ready to go forth. I put my hand in my purse to check and felt no purple wallet! ARGH! as the pirate says. I could account for every step of the day before. It had to be in the house. I clocked miles making the circle and resorting piles. Helpful phone calls with, “Where did you have it last?” were not helpful. I even called on the only saint I know, St. Anthony, affectionately called Tony by those who know him best.
No one had charged on my back up card, so I still felt sure the wallet had not been dropped and picked up. A smaller bag had the essentials I needed. Nothing could be done until Tuesday. I felt any previous plans for that day floating away if I would have to deal with a computer and passwords. One more word to Tony, and i resigned myself to the inevitable.
Sunday morning I was making a Tuesday list when middle son came to gather me for church In one hand he had a flashlight; the other held a purple wallet. It had slipped between a driver’s seat and the gear box. I was duly authenticated again. Two museums and the library would have restored cards rather easily. Dealing with insurance, Medicare, and my vaccination proof might have taken time and effort. That morning I had read Ezra 2, an account of 42,360 Israelites plus some extras who were returning to Jerusalem. I was no longer excluded like the people in vs. 61 – 62. Come Tuesday, I could go forth to the day. Thank you, Tony and Doug.
These searched for their family records, but they could not find them and so were excluded from the priesthood as unclean. Ezra 2: 62
Let Me Tell Ya 