For nearly a week, my keys were missing-in-action. I searched for them in all the usual places and in some unusual places as well. I enlisted my husband's help. Still, no keys. I prayed about it but didn't truly believe that Heavenly Father would trouble Himself over such a minor matter.
One night, I prayed again, went to bed, and awoke the next morning with the intent to listen. I spent nearly an hour in bed, doing just that. Listening. The words appeared in my mind: Look in your coat pocket.
My coat pocket? It was the middle of April, and I rarely wore a coat. Why should my keys be in my coat pocket? Then I remembered. I had been out early one morning and slipped on my winter coat to combat the chill.
Hardly daring to hope, I climbed out of bed and went to the front closet. I slipped my hand in one pocket. No keys. I did the same with the second pocket, and there they were, waiting for me.
The incident was a small one in many ways, but it served as a reminder to listen after I pray. How many times do I pray (in a rather perfunctory manner), then go about my business without paying attention to what the Father is trying to tell me? Too often, I'm afraid.
So, for today, I am grateful for the reminder to listen ... and for the Father's constant watchful care.