Keys

That set of keys up there in that (very blurry) picture usually lives in the center console in Craig's Jeep.  McKay found them there on Wednesday afternoon when we pulled into the church parking lot and saw a handful of Cub Scouts and leaders waiting outside a locked church door.  He promptly grabbed the keys and ran to the rescue.  

We had a great Den Meeting that afternoon.  I taught the scientific method.  We made crystals out of sugar and pipe cleaners.  And the boys all left a little closer to achieving that Scientist requirement.  

The rest of the evening was a blur because right after Cubs ended at 5:30, we had to hurry home, change into church-y clothes, grab Emma and all of her beautiful food, and head back to the church by 6:00 so she could finish prepping and set all the food out for the Young Women's event.  

It was one of those busy, but gratifying days when you fall into bed at 10:00 and feel happy that you've contributed good things to the world (most of them made out of sugar, but still worthwhile contributions.) 

Fast forward to Friday…

9:00  picked up Craig from the airport after a week of training in Atlanta
10:45  to the Villages to hear Emma's Show Choir group perform
12:00  monthly lunch with my neighbors while Craig went home to sneak in a few hours of work before getting ready for a Scout camp out that evening
3:30  picked up Emma from school
4:30  decided a nap would be a great idea
5:00  Emma went to a neighbor's to babysit
5:15  Craig and McKay were ready to drive to the church to meet the other scouts and head to their camp site

Just before he left, Craig woke me up and asked if I had seen his church keys.

Oh, shoot!  Where in the heck did we put those things?

I spent the next 15 minutes trying to retrace all of our steps on Wednesday when I had last seen those keys.  I sat McKay down and interrogated him about what we did with them after we opened the door for the Cubs.  We searched the entire Jeep, then the entire kitchen, then all of my purses and church bags, and finally Craig had to leave.  He grabbed our camp stove and a small cooler out of the garage and just decided that all of those other supplies in the scout shed (that he wouldn't have access to because his wife lost his keys,) they would just have to do without.  

That is not the best feeling, by the way, to see your typically mild-mannered, relaxed, and very organized husband stressed out and chaotic because of something YOU'VE done.  ugh…

Craig and McKay left for the church.  And I kept trying to find the keys.  I sent out a mass text to everyone who had been at YW that night, and also to my Den Leader companion.  None of them had found my keys laying around anywhere.  

Cali, my Den Comp, texted me back and said, "I'm so sorry.  I can't even think of where you might have left them.  Have you tried a prayer?"  

Honestly that was not the first thought that came to my mind, and even after she said it, I was reluctant to give in and pray about this one.  I was the one who lost the dumb keys.  It was a trivial, stupid and irresponsible thing, but I knew that if I could just think harder and try harder, I could fix this on my own without having to ask for any divine help.

After standing in my kitchen for another few minutes and coming up with nothing, I finally (grudgingly) thought, "Fine.  I'll ask.  But I'm pretty sure He's not going to know where they are."

I said a very brief, not very heartfelt prayer.

And then I had this crazy thought come into my head.  

TEXT EMMA

I hadn't even thought to ask her.  And even as I sent the text, I thought it was futile to even try because she wasn't even at Cub Scouts.  How would she know where those keys were?

Me: "You didn't happen to see Daddy's church keys in any of the stuff we took to the church on Wednesday night, did you?"

Emma: "Yep!  I threw them in that blue bag with all the food."

Are you joking??

Me: "And do you know where that bag ended up?"

Emma:  "Nope.  I saw it on the counter in the kitchen at the church when we were cleaning up."

I quickly texted Craig that if he could find someone to open the building for him, he would find the keys on the kitchen counter in the blue bag.  He called a very nice, very non-judgmental Bishopric member, keys were found, Scout sheds were unlocked, and 9 boys had a great overnight camp out in the wilderness.  

So the moral of the story is that I need to start believing the stuff I say.  It doesn't matter if it's a big problem or a small problem, if it was my fault or no one's fault, Heavenly Father wants to help us with our stuff.  I feel pretty confident after yet another, similar incident yesterday, that this whole thing happened to remind me that we are not supposed to do this by ourselves.  Every weakness we came with, every challenge presented in mortality, and every trivial but frustrating disruption in our lives gives us an opportunity to rely on a loving Heavenly Father who wants us to ask Him.  He wants to bless us with the answers but He can't do that if we never ask.  

I'm kinda grateful for those silly church keys today.  I noticed this morning that they are now hanging in the laundry room instead of living in the console of the Jeep.  I'm not sure if that is their new permanent home, but they were a nice reminder as I left the house today not be so stubborn, to ask for help more often, and to be grateful for answers that come in small, quiet ways.