We pile into the van, hot and sweaty, bellies filled, legs stretched and ready to get going again. The rest stop was starting to fill up with other travelers. Perfect timing.
“Wait! My toy!” my son calls, panicked.
“It’s impossible to find,” she says.
“Did you look for it,” I ask.
“Please, I need it,” pleads my son.
“Really, it’s impossible, with all the running and all this grass. It’s tiny and you aren’t going to see it,” she says. I want to take her word for it, and battle annoyance. But his pleading tugs my heart.
I turn and walk to the long grassy field we were just playing in. Okay, I pray, Lord, please show me where to look.
Without waiting I start under the tree they had just been sitting by, trying to be quick and thorough at the same time, with very little idea of what the toy actually looked like. Logically this would be where the toy should be found, as this is where most of our time was spent.
Look by the bathrooms
I feel the urge, practically hear the words tho not audibly. I hesitate. I take one more cursory look around the tree before heading toward the bathroom, just in case, before leaving the area that makes most sense for the toy to be lost in.
Slowly I move away from where my logical mind tells me it should be… I keep searching the grass. And I wonder to myself why I am so hesitant to just look by the bathrooms. If I asked for the Lord’s help, shouldn’t I be willing to take it? I chat with myself silently…
“Well, just in case it isn’t You,” I tell Him to console myself. I tell myself things that aren’t true all the time, hoping, wishing, it is God’s prompting instead of my own desires.. it could just be my head getting the better of me. But, really… something inside me stirs. I do know the sound of His voice. I have mistaken it enough times to know the difference… I just don’t want to be wrong, again.
I reach the benches by the bathrooms, I pause.
Right there, just outside the bathroom, near the bench… right there in plain view. His toy. Tiny grey, and yes, impossible to find in grass. But not on that rust colored cement, outside the bathrooms.
How many times do I play the fool, saying, “Just incase it isn’t you, Lord,” how often do I miss out on some small, yet tangible miracle? How many times have I asked for His leading, His help… only to not believe He is helping and leading? How many times have I fooled myself into thinking my thoughts are His leading, and ignored His still, quiet voice? When logic overtakes His voice, when I doubt the knowledge of Him I have been graced with… When I act as tho I don’t know Him…
And yet, He still offers… even for something as trivial as a tiny plastic toy sitting on the rusty colored cement outside the bathroom.