It isn’t lost. I just can’t find it.
I’ve had my sister’s violin for decades. Thinking maybe one
of my own children, or now, grandchildren, would want to play it. I had it
checked over, valued. It’s been waiting to be played.
Now I have someone who would like to borrow it for a couple
of weeks: and where is it? I’ve checked all the spots I would expect to find
it, and now, all the spots I wouldn’t expect it to be. It’s not that small. I’ve
got the cello, the guitar, the keyboard, the box of music…but no violin. It is
nowhere to be seen.
Thinking of the stories of loss which Jesus told. The woman
swept her house painstakingly searching for her lost coin, and when she found
it, she partied. The shepherd left the ninety-nine to find the stray, and when
he found it, he partied. The loving dad kept his eye on the horizon, praying
for the return of his son, and when he spied him in the distance, he raced to
greet him, and then they partied.
Nobody likes to lose things. Or people.
I need some grandchildren here – they are good at hide and
seek. Failing that, I guess I better get out the broom and keep hunting. Maybe I
should pray the violin would disclose itself by singing out a tune.
Ready or not, here I come…
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