A friend agreed to sell me his custom van for what he could get on trade-in, which wasn’t much for a three-year-old vehicle, even though it had only 9,000 miles. The interior smelled new. After completing the transaction, I got the key. That’s right, just one key.
In the evening, the family decided we would celebrate by going out to dinner. My young son begged me to let him do the driving.
“Don’t lose this,” I said, handing him the key. “It’s the only one I have. I’ll get another one made tomorrow.”
After eating, we enjoyed the luxury ride home. Since our other cars needed driveway access from the garage, I instructed my son to park on the grass. He was already headed toward the house when I yelled, “Hey, I need that key.”
He turned and pitched it to me.
In the dark, the key was hard to see. I reached to catch it, but it hit my hand and fell to the ground.
I searched where I was standing, but the key wasn’t there. We pulled the cars out of the garage and turned the headlights onto the area. I widened the search beyond any possible distance it might have bounced. Every blade of grass felt my hand, searching. “It has to be here,” I said. After looking for an hour, I finally gave up. I would be calling a locksmith in the morning.
When getting ready for bed, I turned to my wife and said, “You’re not going to believe this. I found the key.” It had bounced off my hand and into my pocket.
That experience brought home a reality that I’ve never forgotten. I can be so sure of something and still be wrong. That’s when I need God’s help to see what I can’t see.