85: Angel in Charge of Lost and Missing Things

85: Angel in Charge of Lost and Missing Things

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Angels and Miracles

Angel in Charge of Lost and Missing Things

If the only prayer you said was thank you, that would be enough.

~Meister Eckhart

I have an “Angel in Charge of Lost and Missing Things.” No, really! I do! It all began one evening in Chicago when I was meeting friends at a neighborhood restaurant. It was a clear, but frigid evening. After enjoying a satisfying dinner, I reached for my keys, only to discover that the chain was broken, and the car key gone. Panicked, I emptied my purse and pockets, while everyone searched the restaurant. All to no avail.

My friends and I carefully retraced my steps back to the car parked a block away. It was quite dark, so I was glad that I had parked beneath a streetlight. As we approached, I noticed something glistening in the snow a foot or so from the front passenger door. It was my key sticking straight up in the frosted snow.

I couldn’t believe my luck. Had anyone else found the key, they could have started my car and driven away.

“Somebody up there likes you!” my friends called as I drove off. Mulling that over, I decided that perhaps I had been blessed by a special, “Angel in Charge of Lost and Missing Things.”

Years later, after moving to Santa Fe, we learned to keep our four cats inside, safe from both the harsh terrain and local coyotes. One day, Charles called me at work, panic-stricken.

“Talia is missing! I’ve searched the house . . . behind furniture, under the bed, in closets . . . calling and calling, but . . .”

After calming Charles down, I suggested he lock the other cats in one room, open the front door, and sit on the floor in the middle of the house quietly calling her to him. Upon hanging up, I went into a private office, closed the door, and implored my special angel to bring her home.

About ten minutes later, Charles called back.

“I did as you suggested, and a few minutes later Talia was tapping my arm. She’s curled up in my lap now as if nothing happened.” Agreeing that she had probably been hiding, we both laughed and hung up. Yet, I couldn’t let go of the feeling that an angel had intervened on our behalf.

A few months later, Charles told me that the safety clasp on his heavy 18-karat gold bracelet must have broken, and the bracelet was missing. We searched everywhere, but came up empty. He was devastated, as it was both a financial and sentimental loss.

Later that evening, while taking a shower, I put in a special request to my angel to help us locate Charles’s bracelet. We had a large bathroom with an enclosed shower and steam unit. Once the water was shut off, the steam subsided, and I noticed something glimmering at my feet. In the midst of the parting fog, sitting upon the drain, was the missing bracelet. I fetched Charles and pointed to the floor of the shower. His jaw dropped.

“But I checked the shower! This doesn’t make sense!”

“I asked my Angel in Charge of Lost and Missing Things to help us,” I confessed.

“Your what?”

“I know it sounds silly, but I think I have a special angel helping me locate missing objects!”

Over the years, we both grew to depend upon my angel. Any time something was missing, one of us would simply say, “Angel in Charge of Lost and Missing Things, please stand over my lost [fill in the blank] until I can return safely to it.”

The number of items that have been retrieved in this way is really quite impressive, and includes articles of clothing, more jewelry, house keys, files, pens, and even my pedometer more than once.

One time in San Francisco, I decided to walk a half-mile home after an evening function, high heels and all. Having forgotten to pick up groceries earlier, I bypassed my house and challenged the area’s steep hills towards Whole Foods, another half-mile away.

Arriving hungry and tired, I realized that one of my favorite shawls, which I had wrapped loosely across one shoulder, was gone — lost somewhere along the way. My options were to either hike back up and down the hills, or place my loss in more competent hands. I opted for the latter and petitioned my angel to come to my aid.

“Oh, Angel in Charge of Lost and Missing Things, I know I must be causing you no end of extra work, but I’d really appreciate it if you could reunite me with my silk paisley shawl after I finish shopping.”

Then, free of worry, I turned confidently toward the task at hand. Emerging from the store an hour later, I hoisted my bag in my arms and began the trek home. I soon spotted my shawl sitting upon a curb across the street, seemingly invisible to the eyes of passers-by who walked right past it. Not even feeling the need to hasten my pace, I crossed the street and picked it up as casually as if I were collecting my wrap from a theater’s cloakroom. Of course, I didn’t need a claim ticket, because my angel was thoroughly familiar with the item’s owner, notorious as I was for losing things.

Things haven’t changed much. Just a few minutes ago, I realized that yet another lovely earring had leapt from my ear to join the “lost and missing,” so I alerted Charles to keep his eyes open for it.

“Didn’t you call upon your angel?” he asked, chuckling as he began the familiar search for treasure throughout the house.

“Well, of course I did,” I responded indignantly. I quietly suggested to my angel that it would be a blot upon his record if he failed to deliver while I was writing a story touting his dedicated service.

Not to worry though . . . I see Charles coming this way holding the dangling bauble. He’s shaking his head and smiling. To tell the truth, I think he’s studying to become an angelic apprentice. Not a bad idea in this household, as it probably offers unlimited employment opportunities.

So, next time something of yours disappears, simply concentrate on asking for the assistance of your own “Angel in Charge of Lost and Missing Things.” I’ll bet he has been nearby waiting for an assignment.

And the best part? The only payment you’ll ever need is a simple “Thank You, Angel in Charge of Lost and Missing Things. Thank You!”

~Sue Ross

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