Lost and Found

Lost. The email begins with a tone of curiosity. “I can’t find my iPod -- any idea where it is?” A more frantic one more than an hour later, and finally after another hour has passed, “I’ve torn this place apart! Can’t find it anywhere!” I can’t do much. Even the magic of our digital world does not allow me to join in the search for missing items at home when I am at work. I can suggest, “Try here” or “Have you looked there?” Eventually, I look in my own purse and see the darn thing in he front pocket. Why? How? Who knows , but I least I can send an email to my husband-in-distress and let him know the item has been found.



Lost and Found. The boys brought home a notice from school stating their lost-and-found would be emptied at the end of each month and that staff would no longer be checking the lost and found items for names match the up with children. The process, apparently, has become too unwieldy. Reluctantly-worn sweaters, right mittens, and the odd pair of pants -- little owners must reclaim or they will be offered to the charity of choice.

Just this week: book, game, key, focus, confidence, fear, patience. All lost and found.

Sometimes, I blame it all on too much stuff. We have too much and we lose it because we cannot possibly manage it all. Something is always left behind. Sometimes, I think that loss is good. It makes us appreciate what we have and reminds us that all ownership is temporary. Losing something has inspired me to think: What will I do without it? How will I be changed by its absence?

Every once in a while, I lose my voice. Not laryngitis, but my words. I don’t have time, I don’t have ideas, I don’t have the energy it takes to stir something up inside myself, pull it out of my body and put it onto the page. But then, I do. And it is then -- now -- I am found.