Until my family moved to the county home where our parents became superintendent and matron, we lived on a 40-acre farm on North 20 east of Oakshade. It was at a corner but our mailbox was on the main road. So I know I was at least of school age when this happened. Mom would not have sent a pre-schooler to get the mail on a busy highway.
When she did send me to get the mail, she no doubt watched my every step to be sure of my safety. When I got back, she asked about the money that was in the box, but I had seen no money. “There should have been a dime in the box.”
We, like everyone else, were still in recovery from the Great Depression and counted every coin. I went to search for the coin but, just like Mom had told me, I didn’t find it. The lane was long and sandy. I doubt that coin ever was found.
Last fall, on the return ride from a mission trip to Kentucky, my billfold went missing. You may remember I told you about it.
I shared my problem with the team via email, and our driver went back that very day to the van we used and searched for the wallet. Nothing. On Monday, when I was in the area, I went to the office, got the key, and also searched the van. I was so sure the wallet was under the driver’s seat, but I got the same results – nothing!
Later, the lady in the office repeated the search – nothing!
I knew there was not much money in the wallet, but some things required immediate attention, like my driver’s license and credit cards. Those taken care of, I mentally took inventory of my loss. Though not vital, there were a couple of things I was sorry to lose. But, as the saying goes, it is what it is, and I accepted that.
I basically put it out of my mind and, so to speak, wrote it off to experience.
Recently, while doing some mission work in the Toledo area with some of the same individuals who were along when the wallet went missing, I received a phone call. “This is _____ from the district office and I just wanted to tell you, I found your wallet!” What? Total shock!
Another group had used the van, and she went to get a key from under the mat. When she lifted the floor mat under the front seat, there was no key but there, big as life and twice as sassy, was my missing wallet intact with the money still in it!
How did three of us search that van and come up empty handed? Did this last trip vibrate the wallet from where it had been lodged? We will never know.
As a child, I (and Mom, too) gave up on finding the dime. As an adult, I had given up ever seeing the wallet again, only to have it found three and a half months later.
I could have searched for that dime in the sand for a long time and never have found it. The wallet? I never expected to see it again.
But there are lost people all around us (around you and me) in our everyday lives who need to be “found,” and it is much more vital than either of my losses.
If someone doesn’t point these people to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ, they will go to a Christ-less eternity upon their death. Will you search diligently for them? Will you be that messenger who tells them Jesus loves them? That He died for them? That they may come to know His redeeming power?