God and Stitch Rippers

Today I lost my stitch ripper.

It's kind of a big deal for someone who sews. Especially since I had to pull out some stitching in order to fix a dress. I searched, but it wasn't in the usual places. Of course. That's what makes it lost.

I asked God, "Where is it?" I can't work on this dress until I find it! But all I heard was silence.

So I went off and did something else. Then I realized maybe I was asking the wrong question. So as I walked into my room, I said, "God, could you please help me find my stitch ripper?" Instantly, "Yes. Look behind the sewing machine." I walked directly to the machine and looked behind it, and sure enough, there it was. This conversation took less than five seconds.

The craziest thing is that God cares about lost stitch rippers. Not because of the thing themselves. But because it's important to me, and I'm important to him.

It's such a wild idea. God, the creator of Jupiter and winter and the Indian Ocean, God who parted the Red Sea and the rushing Jordan River, God whose holiness could frizzle us with one peek, this God cares enough about us -- about me -- to show a missing stitch ripper.