Tap, tap, tap.  I dislike being woken up by tapping.  One particular child is often the first person awake and is like a lost puppy until one of his siblings wakes up.  I also make the cut, apparently.  I shove my rice-bag out from under the covers and sleepily ask him to warm it up for me before I venture out of my warm cocoon.  He’s good about things like that.  Bringing me my hot tea to ease the blow of morning.  Just like his daddy.

Yesterday morning we got into the project of cleaning the attic.  It culminated when I looked at their artificial tree, one-third-lit-up, and decided it was time to get it out to the garbage before the trash men came.  Elsie & Jack ran ahead of us to stop the trash truck if they were there.  They were.  It was a pretty funny sight: running outside and yelling, “Wait!  Wait!” in my hot pink pajama pants, funky sweater and socks.  My feet were a muddy mess.  But we made it.

This morning started a bit abruptly when I woke up remembering we had no milk or eggs in the house.  A farm and grocery store trip later, we were set.  That’s when I thought it was a good idea to probably get our transmission checked out by some professionals. I’ve been describing the sounds our van has been making to various people, but it needed an actual diagnosis.  Five kids in a two-chair waiting room was made much more bearable with a small amount of prep and a bag of books.  We left with no absolute answers, but the knowledge it  needs some further tests.  Fun stuff.

After coming home, I thought I should get a few more groceries now that I was more awake and had remembered the rest of my list.  I did a quick check for my wallet, only to find it missing.  I sort of started to freak out a bit.  I called the transmission shop to see if I left it there.  Then I called them again, because two of the kids thought they remembered I did in fact have it there.  Nope.  The man was sweet enough to even check inside the Christmas tree and decorative plant in their waiting room.  Nothing.

Next, I drove all the way back to the small grocery store.  Maybe I left it on the counter in my foggy morning state.  The store was closed.  I cried.  Two small Amish boys were playing in the parking lot, so I asked them if whoever worked there was home.  Yep.  So, I knocked on their door and talked to a few sweet people who obligingly opened the store for me to double-check for my lost wallet.  Nope.  Nothing.

I was pretty discouraged, but know God’s not about discouragement, rather hope and salvation.  We all were praying for it to be found.  I thought I had looked everywhere.  With a weary self, I started to finish tidying the kitchen for supper.  The tablecloth was covered in crumbs and yogurt.  As I began to fold it up, my hand fell on something lumpy.  Underneath one of the folds… which had been folded up since early that morning so I could write out my “list” for the day on the wooden surface of the table… underneath was my wallet.  It almost seemed to smile at me.  I held it up for the kids to see, and we all laughed.  They are so patient with me.

You know who else is patient?  My wonderful heavenly Father.  He LOVES to find lost things.  He is the relentless searcher of the lost.  He is the gracious rescuer of the lost.  He is the all-knowing God, who waits and is patient for us… because sometimes we’re not ready to accept His gift.  Sometimes He has more work to do before He gives us what He already knows we need.  In the meantime, He tells us: Do not be afraid; Do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will help you.  I will strengthen you.  I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.  (Isaiah 41:10)

It reminds me of a current real-time situation we are praying about right now:  Find Jerry.   If you have time, please read his story and pray along with us that God will open the eyes of the right people to find him.