God found my key

When I got to work yesterday, I discovered the key to my office was missing. I distinctly remembered putting it in my pocket, and I know I had transferred it from that pocket to my coat pocket, yet it wasn’t there. It must have fallen out at home, I reasoned, probably when I was taking something else from the pocket, so while I was embarrassed and frustrated, I wasn’t terribly worried. I knew I’d find it.

April couldn’t, though, despite looking on my behalf. And when I got home, it was in neither the office nor the bedroom. It wasn’t in the kitchen, where I had transferred the key to my coat, and it wasn’t in the stairwell or outside the back door where I had removed my other keys from the pocket to lock the door. With the rear floodlights on and a flashlight in hand, I walked to our rear gate and searched to no avail. I had also combed the yard, and as I began walking back to the door, I did so again.

Nearly there, I kicked something. It might have been a stick, but I knew immediately that it was my key, which I had stepped over with the first foot and yet somehow kicked with the second. Thank you God, I thought quite honestly. Even when I looked, knowing it was there, I didn’t see it, and it wasn’t until after a bit of sifting that the key turned up.

In ways large and small, God continually blesses me. Thank you, God, for finding my key and making today far easier (mentally and emotionally, at least) than yesterday.

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