About three weeks back, I lost my favorite Bible. I have several (what preacher’s kid doesn’t?) but this one was special because Craig gave it to me almost 20 years ago on Valentine’s Day, just weeks before our wedding. Those of you who also suffered pre-wedding jitters will totally understand that sigh of relief at yet another confirmation that HE REALLY DOES LOVE ME AND IS GOING TO MARRY ME when I saw he’d inscribed my new last name on the cover.
It was the book I’d read from when we dedicated our children, charging them to trust in the Lord with all their heart and lean not on their own understanding. The pages bore witness to my insatiable need to underline everything. Sermon notes and prayer requests were scrawled out in the margins, promises circled and asterisked. The leather peeled away from the edges of the front cover and the binding was starting to give way but I didn’t want to stop using it and had on my to-do list to research businesses that could fix it. I wanted to be able to leave it as a spiritual diary of sorts for my boys at the end of my life- a witness to the faith of their mother and the hope she had in the Lord. I wanted them to see the goodness of God and His steadfast faithfulness to me and to our family as they read notations of answered prayer.
I don’t know when or where I lost it. I don’t always read in the same place in the house so at first I assumed it was in another room or by another couch. I used my grandmother’s study Bible while I looked for the other one (though I felt guilty underlining in it even though she died nearly 20 years ago) but after days of tearing the house upside down and even driving to church to fruitlessly search my Sunday School room and Lost & Found, I had to admit defeat.
Craig tried to console me (and I’m sure in the back of his head he thought, “Jackpot! I know what to get her for Christmas this year.”) but I was so bummed that I literally had to pray for the Lord to help me GET A GRIP. “And while you’re at it, Lord, can you please find it for me?”
AND HE DID.
Just a few days after praying for divine intervention, I came home to a beaming husband who had found it and a jillion other things the dumb dog had stuffed way under a couch in a room where I never read (or thought to look) because the lighting is horrible.
And I may have cried and hugged his neck.
And then wrote “God answered my prayer” next to this verse:
Suppose a woman has ten silver coins and loses one. Does she not light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it? And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.’
Have a nice day.