By S M Chen, Feb 18, 2015     “… whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive.”  Matt. 21:22

There are two kinds of people:  givers and takers.  My only begotten daughter is not a taker.  So much so that, periodically, her husband and I become concerned that she’s overdoing a good thing, and allowing others to take advantage of her.  Yet, as her husband once told me, he prefers her to be the way she is than the opposite – and I concur.

So it was with particular consternation that I learned recently that she had lost her wedding rings.  Despite being a stay-at-home mom since the birth of my namesake grandson in 2010, between her Arabian horse, two medium-size dogs (she’s also an inveterate animal lover), child, husband, a variety of activities and numerous friends, which she seems to accumulate like Imelda Marcos did shoes, her plate is full, sometimes overly so.

If multitasking were not part of our vernacular, she probably would have invented it.   She has succeeded in elevating it to an art form.  But, as has been demonstrated, no one can do multiple things simultaneously as well as they can one thing at a time.

As a consequence, she has, on more than one occasion, misplaced things – a cellphone, keys, etc. – and now, most importantly, her rings.

The bands were of particular sentimental value in that her husband designed them.  The tony jeweler who made them liked them so well he incorporated their design in others he offered for sale.  They also cost five figures.  And were essentially uninsured.

When I heard about this, over a fortnight ago, I commiserated and reminded her of something Ellen White wrote:  “It is part of God’s plan to grant us… that which He would not bestow, did we not thus ask.”

So she supplicated, and included her four year old son in the petitioning process.  And did her part by searching throughout her vehicle and house – not once but multiple times.  And racked her brain trying to recall when and where she had last seen the rings.  She developed insomnia and diarrhea.  She spoke with their insurance agent and verified that their policy would cover little, if any, of the loss.  She despaired of ever finding the rings.

Her little boy didn’t lose hope, however.  During the approximate two weeks that the rings were missing, he kept telling his mother, “Don’t worry; Jesus will find them.”  In kindergarten, at church, he would remember the rings in prayer.  At bedtime, when he prayed for his family and friends, he always mentioned the rings:  “And one has a diamond in the middle,” he’d say, lest there be any confusion about their identity.

*

Then, a couple days ago, a text message arrived on my cellphone.  It contained a photo of the missing rings on her finger.

In checking an inexpensive bedside white horizontal square from Ikea, which had (likely providentially) become loose, she moved a night stand and, in the carpet indentation from one of the legs, she spied two of the three missing rings.  She surmised, correctly, that the third couldn’t be far away.  And it wasn’t.  But neither was it easy to locate.  It was found sitting rather precariously on a narrow ledge behind the loose Ikea square adjacent to the bedroom wall.

Furthermore, during her exhaustive (and exhausting) search for the rings, she found, in the bottom of a bag containing knitting yarn, an old iPhone which her son had been missing for a number of months.  He remembered the photos it contained and squealed with delight when his mother located the missing device.

After dinner recently, my grandson demonstrated how he had recognized the need for extraterrestrial help.  On his knees, head bowed, eyes closed and hands together, he repeated the little prayers that I have no doubt he believes were instrumental in aiding his mother’s locating both her rings and his cellphone.

*

And the thought came to me that what mattered was not the rings and cellphone.  The cellphone would likely go first, and become a distant memory.  The rings?  Who knows how long they would last.  Perhaps they would be passed on to another generation; maybe to a daughter of my grandson, if he has one.  But their life is finite, too.

What was learned by my grandson, however, will hopefully last forever.  His trust in a higher Power was strengthened by these events – small in the big scheme of things, but significant in that they provided a lesson for perhaps eternity.