Picture this: I am at a restaurant with my cousin. Our mouths burn with the taste of buffalo sauce, waiters and waitresses bustle around with activity. Booths filled for, of all things, a University of Iowa football game. Stephanie and I are chatting, about life, about food, about friends. Our night is free and we ramble, at our own pace, eat nachos, wraps, and sweet potato fries.
Suddenly, I feel something graze my collar bone and look down to discover that the chain of my necklace had broke and the pendant was no where to be found.
Of course, it is a necklace only, a material item, and it wasn't a huge deal. However, the necklace had sentimental value. My sister had bought all of my siblings and me the same one, with a personalized engraving that read "trust your journey." This necklace had been around my neck through some of the most trying months with respect to doing just that, trusting my journey.
Stephanie and I looked around our table and her apartment when we got back with no trace of the "trust your journey" pendant.
Today, I returned home. As I unpacked my bag, always an arduous task, something caught my eye. There, in the side pocket of my weekend bag, was the pendant. This bag, which had been in Stephanie's apartment the whole time mysteriously contained what I had lost, I assumed, at the restaurant.
Now, it very well could be that the pendant fell off, into the side pocket of my bag, while I was at her apartment. Then, we walked to the restaurant, all while the broken chain magically dangled by one side down my shirt, and we ate half of our meal, until I eventually noticed.
Or there's a God.