Most of us who've driven for any length of time are familiar with misplacing our keys. Or losing them. I remember my youngest son's first day of school. We scrimped to be able to send him to a Christian school and snagged the last remaining space in their kindergarten. I had to deliver him to school and at the last minute I couldn't find my keys. Most moms can identify with the trauma of releasing their child into the foreign world away from home. I was holding together fairly well, everything ready for his first day as he fought back tears which only made mine next to impossible to control, until the search for the keys came up empty. Panic arose. Late for the first day of school! Subjecting him to the solo entry into a roomful of kids. How could I let this happen?
All I could think to do was to call my friend and ask if she could take us to school which she was willing to do, bless her heart. It was then as I grabbed things out of the car that I felt the keys in the pouch of my hoodie. Scream! Called her back fast before she could leave, expressing my thanks, foolishness, and embarrassment. Grab my son and head to school. He was hoping we couldn't go. In a way so was I. But we made it. Tears held tight. School began.
Keys provide access. They unlock, they start, they open. Writing requires keys. Comprising all shapes and sizes, many providing similar entrance to known places, others open up hidden corridors of imagination, unlock unique styles, and ignite the powerful engines of various voices.
Losing a story key can send us into a panic. Are we wasting our time looking for it? How could we lose this? Do we need to call somebody? Maybe. Oh. Wait. Here it is. Resting under the letters on that keyboard. Not lost. Right where we left it.
Sometimes we just forget where we put those darn keys!
Father, you hold the keys to my life. Thank you for keeping me going - even when I panic. I love you, Lord. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.