I have a small photo album, the kind you could carry in a purse, that has all my most precious pictures in it – my nearest and dearest loved ones, in black and white and color. I can’t find it.
A couple of weeks ago I went on one of my famous clean up and clean out reorganization frenzies. They are terrifically productive but inevitably something always winds up lost.
Correction – not “lost”.
Misplaced. Or replaced. Or situated so cleverly I have no idea what I did with it.
I remember thinking, “Oh, these are precious, I shouldn’t have this lying around anywhere. I need to put it up somewhere safe”. Well, it’s certainly secure – even I can’t find it.
I’m an expert at losing things. Fortunately I know that higher mind, or guardian angels, or the universal finder-of-lost-things is pretty good at recovery operations.
Usually, when I relax and stop searching whatever I have misplaced turns up.
Comforting to know, like precious inanimates, even mere mortals are never really lost. Maybe displaced, misplaced, or replaced – but the recovery specialist will find us. And you never know where we’ll turn up.