With each piece of clutter I was removing from our tiny garage, my heart beat a little faster. My sister had lent me her ponytail holder, and I had lost it without knowing the total repercussions of my actions. I sifted through my clothes, crept through the kitchen, and dumped the contents of my bathroom drawer onto the tile floor. It's nowhere to be found. I am nearly ready to resign, imagining myself delivering the news to my sister with deep melancholy in my voice. I can only imagine the regret, distrust, and sadness that would be plastered on her face.
If only it were another ponytail holder that I had lost; my sister would've been mildly irritated at worst, wholly indifferent at best. However, this wasn't just any ponytail holder; it was the last ponytail holder my father had given her before he'd passed away. As young teenage girls, this event emotionally scarred us, and every little souvenir of our adventures from our framed photos of Christmas vacations to the tiniest Japanese candy became precious. I had temporarily lost one of those artifacts and was heartbroken for the missing memory. Still, although the image of my jolly, encouraging father was a powerful force pushing me forward, he was not the only source of strength in my heart; throughout my search, I never lost sight of the Lord and His kindness.
The moment I lost that ponytail holder, not a second passed where I was not uttering a mental prayer and reasserting my trust in Jesus. I asked Him for guidance, pleading for some piece of knowledge that could help me in my search. I reasoned through the worst-case scenarios with Him, assuring myself that if I could not find the ponytail holder tonight, I would find it another night, and my sister would simply have to rely on her patience until then.
This fragment of positivity was the result of many weeks of praying, hoping, and trusting in the Lord. Yet, just a few months ago, I would not (or could not) have shown this same optimism. After losing my dad, I was angry with Jesus. For a time, my relationship with Him was almost nonexistent, clouded with my deep-rooted feelings of grief, shame, and confusion. I didn’t understand the reason for my dad passing nor was I looking for it; in fact, I intentionally avoided speaking to Jesus for weeks on end. Still, when I finally opened my heart back up to Him, I began to see the tiny blessings in my life again. I acknowledged that the Lord accepted my father into Heaven according to His predetermined plan, allowing my dad to leave the earth when the time was just right. Jesus reminded me to place my anxieties and grievances on Him, and as I continued to pray, I gradually gained more comfort and closure. He assured me that my father was in Heaven by Jesus’s side. Ever since that life-changing period of my life, I have been willfully relying on Jesus for inner peace while cultivating my much-needed relationship with Him.
Finally, I remember one place I haven't looked for the ponytail holder--under the couch cushions. I’m flooded with relief as I hand my sister the precious item before flopping into bed at midnight. Please bless this house with a restful night of sleep, Lord. In your name I pray, Amen.