Norman Knight
“I can’t find my driver’s license,” Becky said. “I’ve looked in my bags, I’ve looked in the car. Heck, I’ve checked in between the cushions of the couch.”
Looking forlorn she said, “Isn’t the definition of insanity doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results? Well, I’ve checked all the pockets of my coats at least three times.”
In an attempt to help, I began sifting through the clutter on the kitchen table.
I felt her pain. The misplacement of official documents one needs to navigate the world can be panic-inducing, for sure. These are the items that identify who we are to the outside world. When we include Social Security numbers, home addresses, user names, passwords, passports and so on, and when we consider the nefarious threats to our personal security, it is clear we moderns must be constantly on guard to protect the written, printed and electronic matter that prove we exist. It can be exhausting.
Often the next step in a missing item search is to retrace one’s steps. “The last place I remember looking at it was in Pam’s car,” she recollected. Becky doesn’t like to carry a purse or bag, so she keeps her license and one charge card in a Lycra-like pocket attached to the back of her phone. She called and Pam said she would check the car and she did. No luck.
Now would begin the long road to replacing an official government document. Neighbor Kelly once had to replace hers and assured Becky it wasn’t that terrible a procedure. Most of it can be done online. Knowing that allowed us to put off a trip to the virtual BMV for the time being. Since I usually drive, we figured there would be no urgent need for her to show her ID (She doesn’t often get carded when ordering alcohol, although, through my rose-colored glasses, she should be).
We put dealing with the process on the back burner. Then, Saturday after the disappearance, she checked the mailbox. In among the charity requests and political junk mail, was a plain white envelope addressed to her. It was hand-written with no return address. She opened it. “My driver’s license!” she said smiling. Around it was wrapped a note that read, “Found at Blue Heron Park in Franklin.” Her first response was the urge to give this mystery person a big hug.
Now the story’s missing pieces were falling into place. On Wednesday we had gone to Franklin for a training run, and, at some point, she had pulled her phone from her running belt. The Lycra pocket on the back of the phone is old and a bit stretched out from use. It seems likely that the license might have fallen out. We were happy and so thankful that the Missing Driver’s License Mystery ended well.
But that’s not really the end.
The next day, as we were sitting in the choir loft before Sunday service began, Becky shared the Mystery Letter story with some fellow members. I couldn’t help but notice how everyone’s response had one thing in common: each person smiled a big grin after they heard it just as we both smiled when it happened. As Becky and I told the story to others it would get the same smiling response.
“Why,” I pondered, “Are we smiling?”
Perhaps it is because the story offers a chance to remember, “Yes, there is good in the world.” As I keep my eyes and ears open, it is easy for me to develop a sour, negative opinion of humanity. Perhaps this story of someone doing something good, something selfless serves as a balance against negativity. Surely it is always helpful to consider the good that is out there. To remember that light can overcome the darkness.
