LOST AND FOUND

After serving coffee and biscuits to eight missionaries in our village home in Java I collected the tray of dainty cups and saucers, and plates,and walked to the outside kitchen.

Light rain had fallen on the walkway, where I slipped and fell. The tray of crockery crashed to the ground, where it splintered into hundreds of tiny pieces on the cement path. My precious crockery!

One set was a birthday gift from my dear, godly father, who had died two months previously. And I prized the dainty rose set as an engagement present, while several were wedding gifts. I cried as I realised, too, the loss of the green china teacups trimmed in gold, given by christian friends in Adelaide who wished to ensure beauty on our table in our village home.

As I fell, my helper, Rukini, rushed to my aid. As she helped this eight- month- pregnant Aussie lady to her feet, she almost wailed as she cried with me.

" Aduh " ( how terrible ) she mourned, as she swept the pieces into a can, and threw them clanging into the garbage can.

My husband heard the crash and hurried out to survey the devastation, and to comfort me. It was no coincidence that the men were discussing how lightly we should hold the things of this earth, and take joyfully the spoiling of one’s goods. I was not particularly happy about proving the reality of their discussion.

But I treasured my " things " for their sentimental value, and as remembrances of the affection of family and friends. For days I grieved and cried over my irreplaceable treasures.

One morning, in my stubborn grief, I read, " Love not the world, nor the things of the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him." Now there was nothing inherently wrong with the teacups and plates, but my love for my coveted crockery disturbed my peace of mind and heart. When I recognised that dilemma and confessed my sin to God, and accepted His forgiveness with a contented and peaceful mind, I was able to happily serve cups of tea or coffee in kitchen cups.

Then there was the fate of the jar of Vegemite in the kitchen cupboard. This precious commodity which arrived in a Christmas parcel from Australia, we spread with care so as to prolong its life.

One day my helper, Rukini, accidentally knocked the precious jar, which also shattered, this time with a sticky black mass embedded with glass. Rukini knew how we valued that spread, and she probably recalled my re-action to the cup-crash. She may have thought I would be angry, as she cowered and groaned, " Maaf. Maaf" ( I am sorry. I am very sorry).

At that mment, the Lord’s grace and love overwhelmed me, and in Indonesian fashion I held out my upturned palm, and said, " Tidak apa apa". ( Do not worry. It is of no consequence). And I reassured my valued helper that it was an accident, which she could not avoid. My acceptance of Rukini was more important than the jar of Vegemite.

The following day an Australian nurse visited. As she unpacked her case she asked, " Could you use a small tin of peaches and this jar of Vegemite?"

I thanked the Lord that HIS grace enabled me to accept Rukini’s accident with the Vegemite, otherwise I would have spoiled the miracle of God’s providential supply, and my christian testimony and attitude to Rukini.

It seemed that God taught me deep lessons in the mundane events of life.

Weeks later our daughters decided to check the cases and boxes in the small storeroom. In a humid climate, mould usually forms on clothing and books. As the girls searched the containers, I heard a shriek, and as I walked toward the room, the accompanying comment,

" What will Mum say?"

" " Try me," I said, pausing in the doorway, and then gasped as one of our daughters held, by each thumb and forefinger, a shoulder of my simple,but precious wedding dress. The numerous huge holes indicated a gourmet meal for a hungry rat.

If only I had stored it back in Australia. But it was too late for " if only’s". We all cried, and the garment, so special to a wife, was carried on a stick rather ceremonially, by my husband and burned in a little fire.

Yes, although very disappointed at the loss, I reaffirmed to our family that happiness is not the product of " things ", but in our relationship to God, and our love as husband and wife, and their parents. " Happy is the man ( and woman ) whose God is the Lord."

God prepares us for the crises. " The man and woman who walk with the Lord will know His path in the dark,"

On our return to Australia , after five daughters and one son, we all rejoiced at the birth of Philip Mark. But the obvious distress in his breathing and tendency to blueness soon alerted me to an abnormality in our babe. He required feeding by a tube, attached to a funnel, into which I dripped my expressed milk. That took time with a busy family to care for.

The condition was an artery to the lungs which had not closed at birth, and we knew the uncertainty of the future of little Philip. And as well, I shook nervously six times a day as I inserted the tube into the babe’s stomach. I fervently prayed that I would not pass the tube into his lungs, and drown our child. I gladly handed the task to my medico husband when he came home to lunch or in the evening.

But at five months, God saw fit to take baby Philip to Himself, and the difficult breathing and the tube feeding he exchanged for God’s eternal Presence.

We grieved and cried, often waking in the night to the fancied cry of a baby. But heaven is home, and we were comforted that little children will be playing in the streets of heaven.

Yes, while there is loss, the finding is greater. Things are just " things", and with a family of six I was to hear many more accidental crashes over the years.

Life is given - life is taken. Bur God’s love in unchangeable. We find peace that abides for ever, and comfort for human loss.

Loss is exchanged for the " found ", when faith rests in God, and we find grace through Jesus Christ as Saviour, and the power of the Holy Spirit who personalises

our relationship with God.