We’ve all misplaced something at some point or another. Our keys. Our shoes. Our minds. But eventually we find them and sigh a sigh of relief.

But there are times when something is lost. No recollection, no path, no hope. In Luke 15 Jesus speaks of a woman who lost a coin and she was relentless in finding it. She believed she would find it and didn’t stop until she did.

No wife ever wants the pain of loosing the most symbolic item that represents fidelity. But this past week in a horrible turn of events, I dropped my wedding somewhere in the routine of life. It was on my hand on Tuesday morning. It was gone by Tuesday afternoon.

My ring. The ring that Matt picked out. The ring with the center stone he haggled for. The ring he walked away from five times before he bought it. It’s gone.

It’s gone but not lost. I believe that. I’ve scoured Starbucks parking lots, restrooms, jewelry boxes, car floors, glove boxes, closets, and purses. I’ve posted signs around my local coffee shop, shopping center, and office building. I’ve called friends, management, and God to see if anyone can help me find my ring.

Friends, I’m so busting out a Luke 15! I’m believing with all faith that my ring is not lost, it’s misplaced. The word that keeps coming back to me is Romans 4:18. Against all hope, Abraham believed and it was granted to him.

Against all hope that someone will turn in my ring, in hope I’m believing it will be found. I don’t usually do this, but I’m asking, begging, pleading for a miracle and I would be so grateful if you prayed that I would find my most prized marital possession.

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