My wife and I were invited this year to Florida for a tropical Christmas with our son and family there.
Non-stop reports of the voracious Covid virus had us wondering if we should even leave the house. We might catch the virus, or state restrictions could strand us or hinder our travel. What if we made it to Florida and were unable to return home because of restrictions that might be decreed right after Christmas?
We decided to chance it. We prepared for vacation, loaded the Yukon and drove through eleven states (twice!). It was an adventure that included:
and more! If a picture is worth a thousand words, I’m saving about an acre of web space by offering more highlights here.
After three weeks, three days, and over 8,000 miles of paved highway, we quietly steered the dark gray Yukon back into our driveway in familiar, 2:am, Oregon rain.
There’s nothing like getting back to your own bed! Unpacking the next day, we began our return to normal.
My key chain is actually two, with a connector. While packing to leave, I reasoned that on the road, I would not need the keys to the Fiat, the Chevy, the shop, or the house. I detached eight keys from the Yukon keys and sat them aside.
In my memory, I tossed them into a top drawer – someplace out of view, but to be easily found when we return. Now back home, I couldn’t find them. Even after looking three or four times in every place that made sense, and a few places that did not.
My good friend, Jon, asked in a text if we were settling back in. I answered yes, but told him about the lost keys. He suggested I ask his wife, Cher, to come over, saying she is gifted at finding things.
Jon and I became friends as sophomores in high school. He and Cher have been missionaries in Africa for many years (and they have fascinating stories!). They are currently living here in town, awaiting a new assignment.
Cher stopped by the next day and offered to help me find my keys. She humbly told me she has a gift from God for helping people find lost things. She told about a brother-in-law who thought he lost his wallet in a parking lot. She found it in his freezer.
Another time, she helped find a diamond that fell from a ring. She found it on pebbly ground near a fountain. Giving all glory to God, she explained that she doesn’t see where the lost things are, she just feels led to them.
We prayed before she began walking through the house. I told her my primary suspect area was my top desk drawer, and every step away was a little less suspect, but still a possibility.
I hovered nearby for most of her search that included our house, garage, shop, and the GMC Yukon.
After an hour or so, Cher had an appointment who’s time was approaching. The location of the keys would remain a mystery. As she got into her car to leave, she told me to be sure to look in the black, plastic toolbox she noticed in the back of the Yukon.
We didn’t look in the toolbox because I would have had to negotiate the crowded obstacle course protecting the overhead garage door latch from anyone who might wish to put hands on it, manually raise the door to gain access and make room to open the Yukon liftgate – all the time knowing the keys would not be there anyway.
The next day, with the Yukon out in the driveway, I looked in the tool box, certain the keys would not be there, and they weren’t.
Near the tool box we keep a blue, zipper-top, soft bag that contains napkins, Band-Aids, little flashlights, a knife, tweezers, a glow stick, an energy drink, and more – your typical, catch-all travel emergency kit.
Zipping it open, I was as certain the keys would not be in there as I was they would not be in the tool box, but like an elaborate magic trick – THERE THEY WERE!
How could I have put my keys in that bag, thinking – this is a good place where I’ll easily find them when we get home?
Months would have passed before I might have had reason to open that bag.
I’m a believer – Cher does have a gift from God.
