7.09.2007

Do You Have My Wallet?

When I look back, Friday is kind of a blur.

It was my last day in the office until the big England trip (and only a 2/3-day at that) and so there were a few things that needed to be nailed down. My work computer once again failed me (this time continually “dumping physical memory” so that I couldn't even log in), forcing me to relocate to my old cubicle. And I had to run around a bit at lunch to do errands.

All my hustling—and the displacement of being a Physical Dump Refugee—made it hard then on Saturday to think through exactly where in my day my wallet went missing. I know I had it when I bought a machine soda at lunch Friday. And then Saturday morning, it was gone. Vanished.

I realized the wallet was gone as Pure Heart and I were pulling out of the driveway for a 4-hour drive to her Uncle’s for a picnic. I assumed it was on my dresser. Nope. The jeans I wore to work the day before. Nope. I looked everywhere. No sign. I assumed at that point I left the wallet sitting in my usual Wallet Resting Spot at work—in front of the Eagle, next to the helmet. (Only in my office could anyone use those directions…)

Because we were going to be so far away all day, I needed some reassurance the wallet was there. I called BossMan Chris. He was kind enough to run to the office for me. He called later with bad news. The wallet was nowhere to be found. Not next to the Eagle. And not in the cubicle.

This is when I began to get nervous and attempt the reconstruction of my Friday. I ran to Wheaton college over lunch and at the end of the day, I changed into my swimsuit in the bathroom and drove to a pool party. I knew that I had not taken my wallet into the pool party, but had it even made it into the truck? Or was it on the ground atWheaton? Or somewhere weird at the office?

I couldn’t do anything but think on Saturday since we were gone. The search had to wait a full day. On Sunday, I left the house at 7 for a search mission. I went to the office, to Wheaton College, to the site of the pool party. No wallet. Pure Heart and I both tore apart the house and my truck. Nothing. At the office, I even got the idea that perhaps my wallet fell from my desk into the garbage. If you’ve never gone through my office’s trash with your bare hands, please know it’s not the most fun thing to do. These people apparently eat a lot of bananas.

At this point, I was a bit stressed. Because it was nowhere, I assumed that it very well could have been taken somehow—not just misplaced. I worried about my credit cards. On top of all that, I knew I was flying in two days. What if they needed my license and my passport?

When I got home from the search at about 10, Pure Heart and I decided that we would deal with closing credit cards and all that after church. Even with all this hanging over us, we needed to go praise God. I called my main credit card and the account had been untouched since Friday, so that made me feel better.

At church, I was able to just not think about me for awhile. I just got away from my problems and focused on God. But then, during the sermon, an image literally popped in my head. It was of my brown bowling shoe—with my wallet in it. What? I got thinking, Was I even wearing those shoes Friday? Hmmm, I think I was. And what did I do with them when I changed for the Pool Party? I put them in the swim bag with my jeans. What did I do with that swim bag? I got home, hung the towel up to dry, put my jeans away and put the shoes away. If the bag was empty (and it was) and if the jeans pockets were empty (and they were) the only place the wallet COULD be was…in my shoe!

I mouthed to Pure Heart: “I have an idea!” She motioned for me to write it on the bulletin. And so I wrote, “I think it’s in my shoe!” We both didn’t want to get our hopes up, but it felt right.

When we got home, we ran to the closet and with much anticipation we looked—and there was my wallet sitting in my shoe. WHEW.

The funny part to me is that when Pure Heart was looking in the closet that morning, she actually knocked this shoe’s counterpart off of the shoe rack and sat it back up. For some reason, she never even thought to look inside them.

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