A little miracle.

Friday was our sixteenth anniversary.

Sixteen is a nice, even number, but not a huge milestone anniversary. We didn't have any special plans except to go out to dinner, and Asia wanted to buy me a gift.

So after I got off work, we went to the mall. After looking for awhile, we found a lovely pair of brown pearl earrings that will match about half of my wardrobe (I really like brown.) Asia bought them for me and we went on our way, having a delicious dinner at Friday's and then heading home.

The next morning, I got up to go to my weekly Weight Watcher's meeting, and then go garage sale-ing. I'm loving this new routine on Saturdays - get my coffee and paper, go weigh in, go to as many garage sales as I can, then head home. It's a lovely way to spend a Saturday morning.

I decided at the last minute to slip my new earrings on... they were so pretty, and they matched the clothes I had put on. I don't usually get all dolled up to go to garage sales, but whatever.

My morning went as usual. Weigh in was great - I've lost 10.8 pounds so far. Garage sales were abundant, and I was able to find some great clothes for Savannah, a new painting for my living room, and some fun vintage puzzles.

I went home. At some point I reached up inadvertantly to feel my new earrings, and they weren't there. I thought maybe I had decided at the last minute not to wear them after all, and walked into the bedroom expecting to see them laying on the dresser where I had left them. Not there. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. Could I possibly have lost them both?

I wandered outside where Asia was puttering... "I can't find my new earrings."

We searched. And searched. Under the car seats, in the garage sale stuff I'd bought, under the dresser. They were gone.

Asia insisted we go looking for them. Me, being the pessimist, reminded him that I'd been to over 10 garage sales. Those earrings could be anywhere. It would be like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. But into the car we went, both silently praying for a miracle.

Lo and behold, as we pulled up outside the Weight Watchers building, I jumped out of the car and walked over to where I'd parked and saw an earring on the ground. We were encouraged - maybe we could find them both. We went inside and asked if anyone had found an earring. And then we proceeded to retrace my steps from the entire morning - first searching the ground at every single garage sale, then leaving a name and phone number where we could be reached if someone found the missing bauble.

As we drove to the final garage sale, still only in possession of only one of my brand new earrings, we were losing hope. I had to point out that having one was worse than losing both. What good is one earring? It just serves as a reminder of the one that's missing. Asia sighed and said "I've never known God to answer a prayer halfway..."

But it appeared that was what he was doing. We drove home after searching the last garage sale - discouraged and sad that I'd only gotten to wear my new earrings once. And that the bill would still be coming in the mail. Ugh.

We tried to go about our day. Obviously, it was in the back of our minds the whole time. I took a couple kids and went to the grocery store for a distraction. Asia watched Wimbledon.

When I got home from the store, as I put groceries away, I heard my phone beep. I'd left it on the counter when I went to the store so it could charge. I picked it up and noticed I had a voicemail.

"Hi, Cathy? You came by our garage sale a bit ago looking for your earring and I wanted to let you know, we found it."

It had bounced under a couch. They didn't see it until someone bought and moved the couch.

A needle in a haystack indeed.

While it's hard for me to fathom that the One who holds all of creation together also cares about my new brown pearl earrings, I have to believe it's true. Because I think it's a miracle that we found them both.

A miracle for sure.

And in case you're wondering, I've found some backs I can wear with the earrings that won't allow them to slip off.

I don't want to press my luck with the Big Guy...