The Miracle of the Lost Key

Yesterday I woke up 187 miles away from home.  I had been visiting my sister, MZ, since Thursday and this was my final morning on my mini-vacation.  Originally, I planned on going to the airport with my sister to pick up my niece Lyn before heading out.  But I didn’t sleep very well and opted to stay at her place and catch a little extra shut-eye before making the almost 3 hour drive.  On a rainy/snowy day.  Up into the Wyoming mountains.

I decided to load my car so that when she and dad returned, we could leave pretty quickly.  It only took a few minutes and as I walked away from my car I distinctly remember locking my car with my key remote.  This is an important thing to remember.  At least, it became important for me to remember this detail.

I reclined in her couch recliner and waited.  Sleep was just about to come when my OCD kicked in.  I needed to touch my key and make sure it was safe in my pocket.  Imagine my surprise when I discovered it wasn’t.

I went through my normal routine when looking for my keys.  Right pocket?  Nope.  Left pocket? Nada.  This is the “Oh, crap!” moment.   And usually when I’m saved by checking my hoodie pockets.  However, this time there was no salvation.

My sister’s recliner couch is fairly fancy.  The cushions don’t come off and it is very, very heavy.  I stuck my hand down the side.  Nothing.  I stuck my hand down the back and nothing.  The key had to be there.  It had to be.  I distinctly remembered using the key to lock the door for just such a reason.  Yes, I am a bit paranoid since I wasn’t given a spare key when I bought Trevor the Toyota Rav 4.  Which, after this story, my paranoia is justified.

I really wanted to find the key before my sister and dad returned.  I mean, I really, really wanted to find it so that I could tell them the story in a jovial way.  “Yeah, I lost the key and it caused me 5 minutes of consternation!  Ha, ha.  We were almost stuck here…” Ha.  Ha.  Only funny with a happy ending.

After searching the best I could down the sides of the couch and producing no results I tried moving the couch.  That proved to be unsuccessful as the only thing I produced were grunting noises.  I may or may not have hurt something in the process.

I retraced my steps to the car.  No key.

I went back in and stuck my hand down the couch for the millionth time.  That is not an exaggeration.  Then I said a prayer.

MZ, Lyn, and dad returned.  It was time to confess.  I didn’t want to but I thought they might start to wonder why I lingered for days.  Weeks.  Months.

Four of us now searched for the keys and the questions began, “Where did you have your key last?  Are you sure you didn’t lock it in the car?  Where did you go with your key?”

Lyn looking for the key.  She's the only one who could get that far under the couch.

Lyn looking for the key. She’s the only one who could get that far under the couch.

See why me remembering I locked the car with my key became so important?  My niece doubted me.  “Are you sure you aren’t remembering another time and that you locked the key in the car?”

My resolute, “I’m sure,” started to fade to an “I think so.”  Perhaps I’m crazy.  No, I know I’m crazy and I know I do dumb things but I’m pretty sure the key had to be in the couch somewhere.

How does one go about calling that situation into work ?  “Uh, yeah, I won’t be to work because I’m out of state and uh, I lost my key…”  Ugh!  No thank you.

If the key was in the car it was going to be expensive.  We had to be sure.  Where is that stupid key?!

With the four of us gathered, I said another prayer.  “That never works for me,” Lyn said referring to the prayer.  This surprised me.  Lyn is one of the most faithful people I know.  However, she feels like praying over lost items doesn’t produce results.  Okay, Doubting Lyn but what else are we going to do?  If the key fell down inside the cushion it should have fallen to the floor.  But there was no trace of it.

Finally, with a spurt of adrenaline, I tipped the couch forward and reached down a pocket.  If the key fell in there, it really wanted to get lost.  All the way down I extended my hand and…found my key.

The cynical answer would be, “Never mind Heavenly Father, I found it!”  But instead, I said a prayer (over and over again) thanking Him.

Miracles happen every day.  We just have to recognize them.

And yes, I’m home safe and sound prepared to face another week.  On second thought, maybe calling in “Lost key” to work wouldn’t be so bad…

2 thoughts on “The Miracle of the Lost Key

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