Miracle #1
The Beginning
A coin purse.
A simple coin purse with a zipper top
Surely nothing outstanding about it.
Certainly not expensive.
But for me this plain coin purse became the symbol of my maturity. I had now graduated to the fourth grade. Surely I had left my childhood behind and had become this more mature, responsible girl.
That’s not how my mom saw me.
"Why do you want that coin purse? All you’re going to do is lose it like you lose everything, she said.
I bit my lip. Not this time. I would hold on to this wallet forever-and-a-day. My mom would then recognize that I indeed had blossomed into a mature young lady.
My mom handed me the coin holder, and I stuffed my dollar in it. This constituted my entire life’s savings, lunch money for the week. I would guard the coin purse with my life.
I gathered my books and headed for school.
The teacher talked about Washington, adjectives and adverbs, and long division. I stuffed my hand in my pocket, wanting to feel the symbol of my maturity. My hand reached all the way down to the bottom of my pocket-my empty pocket.
A lump the size of a lemon formed in my throat. Surely, the coin purse hadn’t vanished. I must have dropped it when I sat down. It had to be on the floor, right down there by my feet.
I glanced down.
No wallet.
Without attracting the teacher’s attention, I looked around on the floor. Nothing there. Could it be under my desk? As best as I could, I swept the area with my foot. Still no luck.
"You will have ten minutes to do your arithmetic work. The teacher headed back to her desk. "Show your work and turn in your paper when you’re finished."
Great news. That meant I could get up and search for my coin purse. I got down on all fours and looked under my desk. Nothing. Surely, under the desk in front of me, it would be there. But it wasn’t. Nor was it under the one behind me, or under the one beside me, or kitty-corner from me. I searched by the pencil sharpener.
I retraced my steps. Had I shown my prized possession to anyone? Yes, I had flaunted it to everyone. The bell rang and I stuffed it in my pocket. I distinctly remembered doing that. But could I have placed it in my coat pocket instead of my pants pocket?
New hope sprung within me as I dashed toward the back of the room where I had hung up my coat beside those of my classmates. I reached deep into the right pocket. The left pocket. Disappointment ate at me when I realized that they too were empty.
Sure, I felt drained, but I refused to give up. Maybe when I placed my coat on the hook, the coin purse fell down. I looked, but like before, no luck.
Tears stung my eyes as I headed back to my desk. I’d never see the wallet again. My mom had been right. I was just an irresponsible little kid.
I went back to my desk, finished my work, and re-checked every inch of the room, left to right, front to back. My search, as before, proved to be fruitless.
I looked out the window, up toward the irresistible blue sky. "God, I said, "please help me find my wallet."
It had been a simple prayer whispered in childish innocence. I turned my attention back to my work. But not for long.
My thoughts strayed toward the lost coin purse. Search one more time, my inner voice told me. I glanced down at the floor. There, by my feet, lay a folded piece of paper. Had it always been there? I didn’t remember seeing it.
I unfolded it. Someone had written the following letters: A T B O T R U T C. I didn’t read it as letters. The code shouted at me as clearly as if it had been written out in longhand. I knew what it said: at the back of the room under the coats.
I’ve already checked there, I thought. I’ll be wasting my time and giving me needless hope. But this note. . .this note. . .
I stood up, headed toward the back of the classroom, and looked on the floor under the coats.
I picked up my coin purse.
I don’t remember if I checked to see if my dollar was still there. That didn’t matter. I had the important part.
Unfortunately, I no longer have the wallet or the note. Had I realized the significance of my find, I would have cherished them for the rest of my life.
Not only did I gain something very valuable that day, I also lost something. Being a child, I didn’t recognize the importance of my find. The memory got pushed into the innermost recesses of my mind, and there it would lie dormant for many years to come.
End of Chapter One
