Sunday, March 30, 2014


This morning, I pulled into our church parking lot about 1 minute before the service was to start. Couldn't find a place to park, Declan was screaming his head off, and I was flustered. All I could think about was getting my kids dropped off in the nursery before my favorite part of church (music, duh) started.  I was scattered and it was windy and COLD and as we made our way into the building, I realized I couldn't find my phone.

I half paid attention as we got the kids signed in and dropped off in their respective classes. I was mentally retracing my steps to figure out where I might have left the phone. I knew I'd had it minutes before pulling into the parking lot because I'd texted my husband (at a stoplight!) that I was almost there.

We made it into the service about 2 minutes late, couldn't find anywhere to sit, still mentally retracing all of my steps as the ushers got out extra chairs for us.

During worship, I sent my 13 year old back out to the parking lot to look for the phone. I figured it must have fallen out of the car when I was in such a rush and was sure to be lying, smashed in a million pieces, on the pavement. He came back a little bit later with no phone.

The phone wasn't in my purse, and it wasn't in the diaper bag. It wasn't in any of my pockets. It wasn't lying smashed in a million pieces on the parking lot. It wasn't in the car, under a seat, behind a toy or in a cupholder.  The phone had somehow managed to disappear in the 5 minute timespan from texting my husband to getting out of my car.

Todd is out of town from Monday to Friday this week and I was - truly - panicked at the idea of having no phone while he was traveling and away. But, after thoroughly searching everywhere it could be after church let out, I resigned myself to no phone. Almost in tears at what I'd lost from a financial standpoint - and let's face it, I feel like my whole life is on my phone these days - I pulled out of the church parking lot.

A few miles down the road I heard an odd little thump coming from what sounded like the roof of my car. Logan and I looked at each other and as I was saying aloud, "what in the world was that?" I suddenly had a flashback of jumping out of my car and setting my travel mug and phone on the roof of the car while I pulled Declan screaming from his carseat.

Realizing that the thumping sound was very likely the sound of my precious and expensive phone careening off the roof of my car and shattering onto the road behind me, I turned around as quickly as possible and retraced our steps (er, drive). I even turned on my hazards and got out of the car to search the road and the grass for the phone.

As I was about to give up and get back in the car, I glanced at the roof in a last ditch attempt to see if perhaps the phone hadn't actually fallen off and was still somehow on top of the car.

And do you know what?

It was. That stupid iPhone was {somewhat} safely nestled between two of the racks on top of my car. Relief flooded over me as I saw the phone was no worse for the wear. My lifeline was back!

Warning - cheesy analogy ahead.

I wish I could say that whenever I realize I've set God aside in the chaos of life that I was that frantic to find Him again. I wish I could tell you that I spend that much energy and emotion tracking Him down when I remember it's been awhile since I've last touched base.

This isn't a 'your iPhone is of the devil' kind of blog post. Really, I do love my phone.

But it is a simple reminder not to trade God's miracle for the world's magical. (Thank you, Pastor Rusty!)
  A reminder that when you wonder where He's gone since you last touched base, He's not that far at all.

I am, perhaps, slightly embarrassed at how distraught I got over a missing iPhone, especially when I discovered it on the roof of my car. But today it reminded me that God is not far from me, ever, and for that I am grateful.

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