After Chicot Challenge VI, I was so washed out that it was Friday morning before I began unpacking the box of stuff I dropped on the living room floor late Saturday night after the swim. Immediately I knew something was wrong. First, there were only two pair of used goggles in the box. There should have been three and the missing one was a new pair I had worn the last 11 plus miles. Yes, I can tell by looking at them. Second, my swim cap was missing. And third, my Spot Tracker was not in the box.
I tried hard to remember as I searched the house diligently to find the missing items. Did I take those items out and forget? I was also missing some cookies Sheila Mitchell had given me. But I had known Saturday night I had left them on the boat ramp when Sheila asked me on the ride home where the cookies were. I apologized profusely for squandering the gift. I wanted those cookies, and I wanted her to know I wanted those cookies and would have eaten them all like a hungry dog gobbling down a handful of hamburger meat.
But Friday morning my concern became a deep seated sickness in the pit of my stomach when I realized I left my goggles, cap, and Spot Tracker with the cookies. What a stash just sitting there in the open.
So I called South Shore Cottages. Nothing resembling what I described was in their Lost and Found. Then I texted Justin and asked him if he was in the area to at least go by and take a look, please. I knew it was a one-in-a-million chance, but we serve a one-in-a-million God. And the thought of those cookies was watering my mouth. They were mine They were a gift. Two hours later my phone went, "Bing." Justin texted me a picture of my goggles, my cap, and my Spot Tracker. Whoopie! Praise God! Thank you Jesus! Hallelujah! I was strutting around the house fist pumping the air, high as a kite.
|The picture Justin texted me.|
Then I looked at the photo again. I expanded it and searched. I was looking for cookies. "Where are the cookies?" I asked Justin.
"No cookies," was his reply.
My heart sank. Sorry and joy mingled in a strange way within my beating breast. I was grateful for the return of all that equipment. God had come through. But my cookies! My cookies!
I queried Justin like a lawyer in court. He story was that he went by and searched the landing. No cookies. Then he happened to see someone who worked there and he asked her about the cookies. She told him I had already called. Then, a guest hanging out on his porch and overhearing their conversation said, "I have that. My boy picked it up this morning." And he went inside and brought out my cap, goggles, and Spot Tracker.
But he didn't bring out cookies.