My Mitsy is mine again. After five long vehicle-less days and four lost interviews, she’s been repaired and returned to me. What was broken has been fixed, and what was lost is once more found.
Now in the aftermath of this whole fiasco, I’m reminded of a story.
A Lost Coin
In Luke 15, Jesus fires off three successive parables about three lost items: a sheep, a coin, and a son. The first and last of these stories make enough sense: a shepherd loses his precious sheep and a father loses his even dearer son. The emotional stakes are high, and the ultimate rejoicing over each discovery must be phenomenal.
But the coin? A woman loses a mere coin and we’re expected to share in her dread?
Who knows the context of these ten silver coins, whether they represent a truly financial need or more of a sentimental one for the woman. Regardless, every last human on earth can empathize with frantically searching the house for a phone, keys, or the remote control.
We’ve all lost something.
Is it really the end of the world? No. But your racing heart and panicked thoughts often cry otherwise.
In retrospect, my world-is-ending mentality from last Monday now seems a bit dramatic. Amid my desperate tears, a loving father helped me with the bill and more vitally comforted my worried soul. I was eventually able to reschedule my four lost job interviews. I would be okay.
But this was Mitsy. My Mitsy. Most people probably think of their cars as nothing more than an inanimate piece of junk.
But Mitsy’s different.
A Faithful Companion
As a lifelong wanderer, I genuinely view Mitsy as one of my most consistent companions since 2006. She’s my first and only car. In the last six years, she’s literally wandered up and down and left and right and diagonally across this entire country with me.
Our first big adventure was in 2007 when me and my two siblings adventured from Georgia to North Carolina and Pennsylvania on our first parent-less road trip.
She again trekked with me to Pennsylvania after my Phillies won the World Series in 2008; she helped me witness firsthand a championship parade I’ll never forget.
In 2010, we journeyed westward for a new life in California when I desperately needed change from my increasingly stale life in Georgia.
This February, my sister and my friend flew here to Los Angeles, and we set out for Seattle, enjoying a breathtaking drive up the Pacific coast and back.
This May, we ventured back eastward across America, zig-zagging from LA to Milwaukee to North Carolina for my summer camp counselor job in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
And finally, just two weeks ago, Mitsy and I saddled up and returned to southern California, five months removed from the Pacific time zone.
Amid my desperate searches for community, purpose, and belonging, Mitsy has faithfully wandered alongside me, not failing me once. Blown out speakers and broken heater aside, not a single mechanical problem actually related to driving.
Until last week.
A Lost Companion
I’d just returned to California after six long weeks of doubt and despair, desperate to piece together my life out west. My amazing roommates of the last two years were no more. No job. Only a month or two of financial wiggle-room.
And then my dear Mitsy was taken from me, my wandering soul left lost and stranded. One of my precious silver coins had gone missing, but that was just the tip of my doubt-encrusted iceberg.
I legitimately wondered if I’d made the right decision to come back here, adding another 2500 miles to Mitsy’s increasingly aging life. Whether the accompanying load of debt and loneliness was worth the long drive.
If I could have just as easily started over and found community, belonging, and purpose somewhere much closer to home on the east coast.
A Faithful Father
I’ve only been back in southern California for two weeks, but I’ve been blessed. Blessed by life-companions far dearer than an eventually repaired vehicle.
Friends to pick me up from an isolated mechanic and take me grocery shopping.
Family to catch my tears along an invisible phone line that stretches 2500 miles.
Blog followers and entire churches to pray for me. Precious people I’ve never even met.
Having Mitsy returned to me this weekend brought me much joy, yes. Like the woman’s rejoicing over the recovery of her lost coin, it’s a mere snapshot of how a faithful Father must feel when our wandering souls return to Him.
It’s the “little” losses like cars and keys and coins that put vagabond sheep and prodigal sons into massive perspective.
Consider my perspective shifted this week.
Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?
Anybody have an awesome “lost and found” story? I’d love to hear it.
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