The most remarkable thing happened this week – an occurrence which could be considered as a divine lesson about yielding control and letting the miraculous happen. I mean, if you’re inclined to think that way. Decide for yourself.
My youngest son, who has extremely poor eyesight, placed (with great care, I’m sure) his glasses on a sandbar when he decided to swim instead of merely wade. Naturally, the tide was coming in with increasing enthusiasm and force and his glasses quickly disappeared, never to be seen again.
A woman observing our directed stares as we carefully searched the beach, told me not to completely lose heart. She said that her family had sacrificed a pair of goggles to the current only to have them returned the very next day at low tide. Come back tomorrow, she said. Don’t give up.
As we left the beach and walked past the few boulders which act as a boundary to the parking area, we saw a pair of glasses carefully placed on one of the large rocks. Apparently a pair of glasses had been found and were waiting to be reclaimed. Of course, Quinn tried them on and declared them to be perfect, a miraculous “fact” I quickly rejected as I asked my son to put the glasses back for the rightful owner.
Low tide was after dark so we returned the following morning for a thorough search of the area. Despite our best efforts, we turned up nothing beyond an addition or two to our shell collection. No glasses. Arrangements were made to have a back up pair of glasses delivered. We moved on.
In the late afternoon I received the following text from my friend, Aloysius: “Have q’s glasses.” Huh? Really?! It seems that after a full afternoon of kayaking, my friend and my oldest son had come ashore at the beach where Quinn’s glasses had gone to sea. As Aloysius picked up his dropped towel, he noticed a pair of glasses on a lower rail of the nearby fence. Liam quickly identified them as his brother’s and the tale of the glasses’ disappearance immediately became the story of their reappearance. How utterly amazing!
What’s the take away? For Quinn, I hope, it is a lesson about being more careful with his possessions, especially items necessary for his essential senses to properly operate. The lesson I’m focusing on is to accept loss while understanding that the possibility for being reunited remains. How about you? Any lessons about loss and recovery to share?