I have a password book. Dumb. Lose the book, and lose my life. You know how it goes. In the meantime, I have the book. Hundreds of passwords. I've done a lot of re-arranging and moving lately, because I moved my office home. (We'll talk about that another time.)
As things began to finalize/be finished up, I began to relax and to get comfortable. Hundreds of papers, books, new items and doo-dads, everywhere. I'm not used to where everything is yet, because I'm not used to having all this Stuff in my house to know that it's here; let alone where it is!
Time passed. Maybe a couple of weeks. Very hectic in the meantime, with company, the holidays, getting caught up with the business, my daughter's care, etc.
Then, last week, I focused on Facebook--figured I'd make my mark there. It had been months and months, and it was time to catch up.
I went to look for the password book: Absent and unaccounted for. Odd, I thought. I know it's' here...
I wasn't so worried, because I knew it had to be Somewhere. Slowly and methodically, I began to look. The days went by. I looked harder. At first, it was topical. Then, beneath and into and under. Oy...
I was reminded of the little story, Where's Spot? Is he here? No. Is he there? Not there. Is he over in the other place? Nope. Not in the other place, either...
Uh, oh...
After a week, I recruited my daughter's nurse. Search, search. search. Under furniture, in drawers, throughout closets; peculiar places that it couldn't be--but might. I checked, cleaned, and swept the spots in the garage; every where in my three offices. The trash, the shredded papers. I called places I thought maybe I took it and left it. The good news is that it had been about a month, and no one had tried to log in as me: Another reason to think the book was at home.
Nevertheless, no password book.
It wasn't just the newspaper or the stock market check-up passwords, you understand. It was serious: Social Security, insurance, the computers, banks--you know, important things. It occurred to me to get frantic. Yet, I still and all, couldn't fathom that I had lost that book. I kept looking.
On Wednesday, I went for luncheon with a friend. Delicious belated birthday, at a swell Italian restaurant. Maggiano's. (Ever been there? mmmmmmmm... The one I like best is downtown, and old in feel--lots of photos of historic Denver. Leather booths, checkered table cloths... Black and white parquet floors in the bathrooms. Dark wood trim and wainscoting with white striated marble walls. Brass trim. Perfect. But I digress.)
My friend and I eat. It comes time for dessert. The waiter brings it, gratis, for the special occasion, and with the skinniest pink birthday candle I've ever seen. Twine dipped in wax and straightened. About 6" tall. He lights the wick, and I make a wish.
Wishes over birthday cakes, at least for me, don't mean much; I don't take them seriously. (Just between us.)
This time, however, in all the years of wishing, I figured I really had a good, legitimate wish. Instead of saving the world, or the environment, or the poor and starving--wishes that couldn't come true in a million years from my or anyone's birthday candle--I had a serious thought. Not just a wish--a fervent request. In fact, a prayer.
I'm not one to ask God for things. I figure He's got a lot on His mind with the weather, wars, and all; and the best I can do is to have Him grant me the strength to help me help myself. That's my usual petitioning prayer. With a "Thank you" up front.
I think, OK, this is a birthday wish, and By Golly, I'm going to take advantage of the occasion. I'm desperate. (I hope God doesn't mind the imposition, too much.)
My wish had become a prayer, and I asked for help to find the password book. (Of course, you guessed this.) I say "Thank you" first--up front--as I prayed.
From the birthday candle fairy, I had transitioned to God: "Upper Management."
Losing a password book is serious business. I needed to rely on Someone more powerful than I.
I wish, I pray, I hope and hope and hope. Omain.
*
Five minutes later, as my friend and I begin to start in with the dessert, Hillary's nurse calls me at the restaurant. No kidding. No. Kidding.
"Hello!" she says cheerily. "I have something to tell you."
I smile inwardly. I know what it is. "You found the password book," I return, quietly.
"How on earth did you know?!" She is stupefied.
"Because I asked God to find it just minutes ago, and He did," I said.
Our nurse of 29 years, 77 years old, whose husband was pastor of their church, is abashed. "When did you ask God to help you find it?" she queried.
"About 5 minutes ago," I said with a smile.
The nurse didn't question for a moment. She knew this was right. The book had been stuck in the couch, under the cushions. I had searched the couch twice. The nurse had searched the couch herself, a few days ago. For whatever reason, today, she went back and looked in the couch, again. Bingo. There was the book.
So you go figure. But I figure God found it. I figure He knew right where it was, and when I asked Him, He couldn't refuse. So He found it for us. The nurse got the credit. Albeit, she refused the promised monetary reward. Her reward came from Heaven. She was humbled to be the servant of the Lord, as they say. You can just bet that she saw the entire procedure as a testimony to God's existence, which she has known all along.
She's right.
*
And, there you are. One of my God stories. You might say, "Aw, that's just a coincidence."
My response to that: Coincidence is God's way of remaining anonymous.
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