Lost and Found

A couple of summers ago I was in my car, stopped at a red light, when a homeless man started eyeing me through the windshield. I groaned because my soul has yet to find a way to deal with the stress of homelessness. I feel condescending when I hand out 50 cents from my cup-holder. I feel Jesusless when I pretend not to see another human life pleading with me. I feel generally sad about this whole mess of a world where so many are overlooked.

So, on this occasion I rolled down my window to hear the request of this gentlemen only to find out that he hadn’t one. Instead, he was hurriedly trying to make me aware of a note that had been lodged underneath my windshield wiper. I got out and apprehended the note thanking my stranger-friend for his generosity toward me. The note read:

We found your IPOD on the ground
Please call us at 624-XXXX.

When I arrived at the couples house, just a few doors down from my own, they were apologetic saying that they had knocked on my door and tried to email me through my school list-serv, but nothing had worked until now. I laughed, thanked them and left quickly, but I keep that note in my desk drawer as a little reminder of their kindness.

Thinking back, I probably should have been more surprised at their generosity, except it seems that my belongings have always had guardian angels. Some people can boast surviving deathly tidal waves or car crashes and I mean to take nothing from them. It just happens that the angels assigned to me are very concerned with material things and have focused most of their attention in this realm of security.

Last night was no different. Topher Grace and I were standing around in a parking lot talking about God’s providence when his phone buzzed.” You’re calling me,” he said, and I politely disagreed. As it turns out Hal was calling him. Hal picked up my cell after it fell out of my pocket during an ice-cube war I was having with friends earlier that evening. Hal told Topher to have me call him the next day and he would bring me my phone. I wondered out loud why this man would have chosen to call Topher of all people. "Well, I texted you tonight when we got here," Toph said, so I was probably the last text on your phone. This was hilarious news to me since the previous-to-last text I got from Topher was probably 2 months ago and the last time he and I hung out alone together was probably never. What luck, huh?

Can something this inconsequential be attributed to divine providence?
I really don’t know.

But I know that this eerie inability I have to lose things, speaks to me. It allows me to live freely and without fear because someone out there, be it God or man, is always looking out for me. When I finally got home last night I realized that Topher wasn’t the only one who received a call from Hal. Liv and Collin had driven over to my house at 10:30 at night to leave a note for me about my phone, fearful that an email might not be enough.

Liv had to work at 4:30 in the morning and could have benefited from going to bed early, but she was complelled in the moment of decision, to choose my luxury over her need. That is goodness. And I believe that such goodness has a source. And that source is near to me and to Hal and even to the helpful homeless man that I don’t quite know that to do with. And this source has created and situated all of us in time and space in such a way so that we may “seek him and perhaps grasp for him and even find him, though he is not far from each of us.” I hope today is a day of finding and being found for each of you and may your personal property angels be always as diligent as mine.

P.S. In a Bonus God move, the returner of my phone was quite a handssome fellow. Drove a truck, had a dog, made me want to chunk my phone in the back of his pickup just so he could bring it to me again.

P.P.S. I will be out of town on a church trip this week, so no posts for a while. I can hear the sobs of all 8 of you now.