We found the lid. Ok, I found it. And I can’t stop smiling. 

Do you think I’m crazy for rejoicing over a tiny piece of plastic that sits on the top of a traveling wine glass? That’s ok. I don’t mind. Because to me it is worth rejoicing over. And I pray that I never forget that the lid was found, even after we thought it was a lost cause. 

Here’s what happened. 

On Sunday we made cocktails in our double-walled metal wine glasses. Erik’s is black. Mine is rose. We slipped the lids right on top and they settled into their grooves, the silicone seals doing their work. Then we grabbed our chairs – the low ones that are worn and stained and rusty from countless beach days – and headed out the door to meet friends at the beach. 

It was wonderful. The wind was howling. The sand kept getting in our eyes. It was Hawaii-cold (75) and cloudy. It looked like it could rain and any minute. The surfers were shivering after they had left the waves in the ocean. But the love and community sitting there was a gift. The best kind of gift. The kind that we’re sad to be leaving behind. 

Erik took off his lid and tipped back his glass to swallow the last of his tequila sunrise with pomegranate molasses instead of grenadine. We stayed a while longer, talking about the cold, the week ahead, the lives that are waiting around the next corner for those of us leaving.

And then we gave in. The wind won and we packed up. Those of us who walked turned to go home, everyone else went to find their cars scattered in the neighborhood. 

Erik and I walked on the sand to the gate, then back to the house we’re renting. I put my cup down and then he did too, only to realize he’d lost his lid somewhere on the walk. 

He turned around to retrace his steps and search for this small plastic circle, clear plastic, almost invisible on a sea of wind-tossed sand. 

He didn’t find it. He asked the four friends who were still there to help him look. No one caught even a glimpse of the lid. 

I got out of the shower, hair still wet, and said let’s go look together. 

As we were walking and looking I prayed we’d find it. A small prayer. Meaningless to some. But they say God cares about the small things, too, right? 

We didn’t find it. Well we tried. 

On Monday we walked the beach. Two-and a half miles like we often do. Our toes digging into the sand, looking over at the expanse of churning turquoise. I don’t remember if I even thought about the lid that day. There were plenty of other things to think about.

Then this morning, we did what we’ve done countless times. Erik made coffee for him and tea for me. We took our mugs, our chairs and while it was still dark walked to the beach to watch the sun come up. 

It was a pretty lackluster sunrise. Hardly any color. Clouds thick on the horizon so that even after the sun rose you weren’t sure if you were still waiting for it. 

And then we stood up, ready to head home and get into another Tuesday. I looked down, and there right on top of the sand, like it was waiting for us, was the lid. 

I grabbed it in astonishment. With excitement and joy I showed it to Erik. He laughed and I just kept smiling. 

We found the lid. 

And here’s the thing. It isn’t even about the lid. But you knew that already, didn’t you? 

It’s about God and His goodness. He answered my prayer, He just did it in His timing. It would have been easy to miss the lid. Six people who were searching for it had already missed it once. But it was time for it to be found. 

And right now, with our life on shaky ground and a big question mark up ahead, I needed that reminder. I needed to see God answer my prayer on His time, in His way. I needed Him to let me hold that lid in my hand and see evidence of His working in a way that I didn’t expect. In His timing. I needed to not find the lid on Sunday so that He could show me that even when I feel like He’s silent, He hasn’t forgotten me. He’s still listening. He’s still working. He’s still got this. He’s still got me. He’s still got you. 

And if a stupid plastic lid can show me all that, it gives me hope. Hope that I desperately needed today. And maybe you did, too. 

I don’t know where your lid is. I don’t know where you lost it. But I believe God will help you find it. I just don’t know when.