Lost And Found

Yesterday we went down to Essex. Julian's birthday was Christmas week, and we hadn't seen him since August. So we took him out for a belated festive/ celebration lunch. It was good to be together. I wore my Weather Scarf, its yellow stripes match my new coat. And my silver earrings, which were Gillian's, but Julian gave them to me when she died.

As we arrived at J's house, I realised one was missing. I tried not to be upset. It didn't seem to be in the car, or hooked on my clothing. I took the other out and put it away safely. I whispered to Bob that I'd lost it, but not to say anything. I felt very sad. 

The later I went out to fetch something from the car - and my earring was there, hooked on the side of the door pocket. I was so thrilled! 

We went out for our meal [J had chosen the Harvester in Idea Park] Then back to his place. When we came to leave I realised I did not have my scarf [the one that took a year to knit!] Bob diverted our route home and we called in at the restaurant. Yes, they had it, safe in the lost property box. I was very grateful. 

Neither the earrings, nor the scarf are particularly valuable in monetary terms, and I told myself not to get over upset. But one represented someone very dear to me, who I miss so much - the other was a reminder of our final year in Ferndown... our friends, our church and the covid-craziness which meant I was at Cornerstones all summer, teaching Rosie. Two items with a lot of memories, which made them very precious. I thought I'd lost them, but they were soon found again, and I was incredibly, over-the-moon pleased. 

As we drove home along the M11, I found myself thinking about those three stories in Luke chapter 15 - the lost coin, the lost sheep and the lost son. And thinking about God's amazing grace.