I couldn’t find my hearing aid. And for once, I was about to get out the door on time. But when I reached into the black pouch where I keep the device when I’m not wearing it, it wasn’t there.
I checked all the places I could have put it down: the breakfast bar, the vanity top in the bathroom, the mirrored tray in the bedroom, the lamp table beside the love seat where I sit in the evenings. I emptied my purse. I checked the pockets of the jeans and jacket I wore Monday evening, when I’d last used it. Nothing.
Panic set in. Not only did I have a haircut appointment, but I also had half a dozen errands to run, errands that entailed talking with people.
“I can’t go without my hearing aid,” I muttered, emptying my purse for the second time. “I won’t hear anything anyone says to me.”
Not being able to hear was only one aspect of my concern. The other was that the hearing aid would be expensive to replace. But what could I do? I’d already scoured the house. I’d just have to explain to everyone what happened, ask them to speak louder – and to pray.
When I returned home later in the afternoon, I had less than an hour before I had to leave for town again to help set up for Saturday’s Punxsutawney Christian Women’s Conference. I popped a pizza in the oven for supper, put away the groceries, and searched the house again.
For some reason, all day I’d been thinking about a bag of garbage I took out to the shed on Tuesday. I had a feeling burning the garbage was on Dean’s do-list for the evening, so I lugged the bag to the back deck and began emptying it, one yucky item at a time. Only six relatively clean objects later, I found the missing hearing aid.
I brushed off hazelnut coffee grounds, rinsed the ear mold, plugged it in my ear, and turned it on. After being in the garbage bag for three days, it worked just fine! I must have put it on the breakfast bar Monday night, when I’d come home exhausted, and forgot about it. Dean came home the next day after work and dropped the mail where he usually does – on the breakfast bar, where the hearing aid lay. Apparently it got mixed in with the junk mail that I tossed in the garbage.
Everyone I saw Thursday evening got the story of the lost-and-found hearing aid. I wanted to share my joy.
So it was in heaven the day I decided to follow Jesus. I, too, had been lost, buried in the trash of life and headed for the burn pile. But God plucked me out, removed the junk that covered me, and cleaned me so I could do what I was created to do and fulfill His purpose for me.
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound!”
Lord, I pray there’s rejoicing in heaven right now because someone who was lost has been found. Show me what I can do to keep the rejoicing going strong. Amen.
Special-Tea: Read Luke 15