Lost and Found, Dead and Alive

Some things, briefly, because it is late and I should be in bed but am, instead, typing away on…

(wait for it)

…my very own dearly beloved and formerly departed computer.

Yes, yes, it is true.

This past Saturday night found us arriving home late after a long day of driving and fun. It was my brother’s nineteenth birthday and John and I decided to go a little crazy and make the three-hour trip out to the camp where he works and surprise him. We pulled it off quite well (if I do say so myself) with the help of his pastor and some of his crazy friends. The look on his face when he did a triple take and realized that, lo, the toddlers who had just run into him were, shock and awe, his nephews… well, let’s just say I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. It was fun. (Understatement.)

Anyway. So. We were stumbling in the door that night, putting sleeping children into their beds, still warm and fuzzy from our surprise and subsequently giddy evening, when I checked our voicemail.

This is what I heard: “Hello, this is R– S—– from Amtrak in Tuscon, Arizona. Please give me a call back. We’re open Tuesday through Saturday evenings.”

Now, mind you, it had been two weeks since I lost my computer, iPod, all chargers, et cetera. I had completely given up hope and was expecting the (somewhat measly) insurance claim to arrive soon so we could, you know, replace, say, one of the balls of yarn and maybe a set of knitting needles I had been carrying in the computer bag.

So when I heard that phone message, I held my breath for a full five minutes. More or less.

Then I hyperventilated. And hit the call back button. Even though it was 10:30 at night and even though it made no sense to call an office at that time.

But the guy picked up the phone.

I tried not to break his ear drum when he informed me that he had my computer bag sitting right in front of him, complete with laptop, iPod, many and assorted chargers, books and, lo, even the yarn. He told me he would be sending it on a train in about thirty minutes and it would be arriving a few miles from my house in less than twelve hours. He’d call me back in a few minutes with a claim number.

I hung up the phone. I screamed (for realz) and did a happy little jig (truly). I ran outside to where John was unloading some things from the truck and repeated the jubilation ritual. He said that maybe I should remember that we have neighbors who were trying to sleep and asked what on earth was going on.

They found it! They found it! And this train guy said it’s coming tomorrow and I don’t even know how he got it or where they found it or if it really was stolen or anything and he had to turn on the computer and happened to find a document with contact info and he called our house phone and he’s sending it here–right to our town–and he’s going to call back in a couple minutes and….

And then I went cold. Oh my word. Maybe this guy wasn’t from the train. Maybe he was just the freak who stole the computer and was checking up to make sure he had the right person. Maybe that’s why he was answering his phone at almost 11pm. And maybe he was now going to use all the personal information he’s obtained to come and kill me in my sleep??!!??!!??!!

Panic.

Thankfully there are kind and understanding people at Amtrak’s headquarters who could verify that this man was indeed the ticket agent in Tuscon and that they are, in fact, normally open until 3am on Saturday nights because of train schedules.

Whereupon I heaved a sigh of relief just in time for the phone to ring, bringing me the claim number that would place my computer back in my hands at exactly 11:33am the next morning.

So-OH… long story longer, we marched right into that ticket office after church Sunday morning, smiled sweetly at the grumpy ticket agent, and I was reunited with my pretty little red laptop case and my trusty old Toshiba. , of course, the iPod, various and myriad chargers, four books and multiple balls of yarn.

And here I sit, typing away on my very own keyboard with my phone connected to its very own charger, proclaiming to you all that, indeed, it is no fairy tale that God cares about the little things in our lives.

Even traveling laptops.