keys.

summer of 2003.

i don't really understand the concept of purses-
especially over-sized ones.
true, they house make-up, a wallet, hair accessories,
kleenex, an old movie stub or two, other feminine
accessories, and a set of keys.
and yet, when a female cannot seem to find her
rimmel #07 cherry lip gloss, she's shocked.
how hard can it really be to find a 5" tube of lip gloss,
amidst a sea of accessories?
pretty difficult.

that's one thing i appreciate about being a guy:
you only get one shot in a day to make
yourself presentable. and if you didn't
fringe your hair with the precise amount of gel
in the morning, you've blown it.
there will be no mid-day freshening up.
by unwritten law, all a male needs for his day
should fit within the confines of a single, leather wallet.
males are the ultimate minimalists.

when i was a teenager, all my wallet retained was:
a quarter for the bus,
a driver's licence,
and the key to the front door of my house.
and that key lived snugly in the cash pocket of
my worn leather wallet. admittedly, it's an odd place
to store a key- but, i could never justify carrying
around a key ring (or a dorky lanyard) for a single key.

on a sunday afternoon in may, my parents were
out of town for a weekend, and i invited a friend
to stay over to keep me company.
his name was max (not really, but i always wish i had
a friend named max... so, apparently, i live
vicariously through the retelling of my own stories.
weird).

after church, max's mom dropped us off at my house
and then hurried off to some women's church potluck.
we advanced the porch of my house, and as we did,
i pulled out my leather wallet to retrieve
the house key from the cash pocket.
and...it wasn't there.

"odd" i thought, as i rummaged through the rest of
the wallet, and then through my pockets,
in frantic search for the key. we even retraced
our steps from the driveway...
nothing.

my parents weren't going to be home for days.
the thought of this isolation caused a thin bead
of sweat to trickle down my neck.
you know that feeling of how when life isn't ideal,
you immediately assume the worst cause
scenario is going to happen?-this was one
of those shining moments.
i pictured myself having to camp outside
of the house for days, living off of berries,
and leaves, and would eventually die
of malnutrition. which seemed like a pretty
legitimate possibility at the time.

frantic, i grabbed the door knob and twisted
with great force, praying that it would simply
unlock and i'd awake from this teenage
nightmare. no such luck.

as most raving lunatics would do in this
situation, i began to try and open every
single door and window on the house-
searching for a crack or an unlocked
opening. and that's when i really started to
panic. i began to dissect my wallet and
ripped out some of the fabric lining.

max piped up: "hey, maybe we should
stop and pray and ask god to help us out.
the bible says that if we ask, we'll receive"
i stared at him with no response.
i didn't think that people actually believed
that statement.
in fact, i kind of felt sorry for him
and his naivety.

"max, i don't really think that god cares
whether or not we have a key right now.
i don't think that this is a good example of
what that verse is trying to teach".
i replied condescendingly.

"but, if we ask, we'll receive. god is
always listening to us."
the poor guy was hopeless. how could
innocence like his ever survive in the real world?

"do you mind if i take your wallet
and pray that god helps us out?" he asked.

"...uh... yeah, sure, go for it" i replied.
simply bewildered.
and off he went, to find a shady spot to
pray that this key would magically appear.

i surveyed the house once more,
and noticed that my bedroom window was
cracked open half an inch or so.
it's amazing how fast stress can evolve
into joy. i grabbed a garden rake
and pryed it into the window,
steadily opening it further.
i could barely squeeze into the opening.
and when i did, i landed on top of my desk,
which then toppled onto me.
disoriented, i ran to the front door,
unlocked it, and glowed with
an enormous ego and pride.

"max!" i hollered. "guess what! i've got
great news!"

"me too!" he shouted back. he remained
seated, clasping my wallet with both hands.
confused, i asked, "what's your news?"

he unfolded the wallet, and the metal
house key slid into his palm.
"isn't it great!?" he exclaimed.
"see! ask and you will receive!"

there were no words in that moment.
sometimes i seriously wonder if
irony is god's first language.

since that day, i have tried to explain the
whole event away.
i want to believe that the key was
misplaced in some hidden compartment.
i want to believe that this was a cruel joke
being played on me. but, it wasn't.
there was no christian version of ashton kutcher
to jump out and tell me that i was punk'd.
i want to believe that in my frantic state,
i simply couldn't find it.
but i ripped that wallet apart- literally.
i emptied it to a vacant state, and felt with
my own hands- no key was present.

all that i can conclude is this:
when max took it away to pray, there was
no key. and when we was done praying,
there was a key. and somewhere
amidst the translation of prayer, a key
ended up in that wallet.

in the scheme of life, it was a minuscule
miracle. but for me, it actually was a big deal.
maybe god does care about those details-
those small things that seem so mundane
and routine. maybe those little details
are personal love letters, personally
addressed to all of us- just waiting to be
opened, read, and cherished.