“Why don’t we wait until the snow melts and see if your wallet is there,” Heidi said, looking at a snow-covered patch of grass we couldn’t shovel. “I’ll keep an eye on it. No one’s going to find it under all that snow before we do.”
It had been fourteen hours since my wallet went missing, so I wasn’t as frantic about losing it as I first was. The day before, we had finished having dinner at our daughter’s house and looked out the window to see if the predicted snowfall had started. It hadn’t. But an hour later, when we finished playing a board game, so much snow had fallen that the roads were impassable, and Fred and I couldn’t drive back to our place, 3 kilometres away. During our attempt to get home, I discovered both my cell phone and wallet were missing.
We left our car at Heidi’s and walked through the snow to the Skytrain. In my mind, I retraced my steps from when I’d last had my wallet and phone in my hands until I noticed they were missing. How could I have lost them?
Google Timeline showed that my phone was still at Heidi’s place. There was no action on my phone or on my credit cards. No one had stolen them. But where were they? Heidi and Jeremy looked for them again, but it was difficult in the dark.
Meanwhile, it continued to snow.
At five in the morning, Jeremy sent Fred a text. Their tenant had found my phone outside their house. I went back to sleep and in a wakeful moment, sensed God’s comfort. Whether I found my wallet or not, it would be all right. Finally, what I knew in my head, my heart believed.
I returned to Heidi’s place in the morning, and we continued the search for my wallet. When our efforts were fruitless, I decided to take Heidi’s advice to wait until the snow melted and trust her watchful eye. In our coastal climate where snow can come and go within days, I wouldn’t have to wait long.
It wasn’t safe enough to drive our car home, but I could clear snow off the roof and windshield. There, on the floor on the front passenger side, was my wallet. It must have fallen out of my backpack when I was looking for my phone the night before.
I enjoyed the relief I felt as I walked home along the Brunette River. The ground, bushes and branches were covered with thick, soft snow. Beauty hushed my soul and ignited a childlike delight in this fresh, white world. While I was glad I’d found my wallet, my mind returned to Heidi’s words and the thought that the snow would keep something of mine safe, and I could trust that Love would wait and watch for me.
That was on Monday. More snow days followed with events cancelled and spaciousness lavishly given. I didn’t have to wedge my life between deadlines. I love the slow pace of waiting to see what treasure will be revealed and knowing that God is keeping a watchful eye out to celebrate what’s found.
If it were not for You, O Beloved,
You who make all things new,
Fear and chaos would reign
in every heart; in You
will I trust forever.
Nan C. Merrill,
Psalms for Praying:
An Invitation to Wholeness
∗ ∗ ∗
Love Mischief for the World
Heidi, Jeremy and Hadrian are avid cyclists, committed to living sustainably and caring for all living things. So it wasn’t surprising to me that Heidi spoke up at a recent New Westminster Council meeting advocating for safer, uninterrupted routes for pedestrians and cyclists, a budget where walking, cycling, and transit comes first and meaningfully collaboration with the Sustainable Transportation Advocacy Committee and HUB. You can catch her speech here at 1:17:30. I’m so proud of her.
What love mischief are you and God doing for the world?
Let me know and I will include it in an upcoming post.
Credits and References:
“Snowfall” by Ed Suominen. Used with permission.
Snowy Trees” by broombesoom. Used with permission.
Photo of the Braacx family used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2020.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2020. http://www.estherhizsa.com