Mike had planned to pick up Max from basketball practice, yet it looked like circumstances would make him late. I needed leave at 6:15 to head down to the church to set up for a service Relief Society activity I was in charge of, so I responded:
"I'm 5 minutes away, I'll get him so I can leave him here with the girls while you drive home."
Putting dinner on pause, I arrived at the school only to discover practice was running late. 6:10 on the clock. If I waited, I would be late meeting the other women planning to set up at the church and I was the one with the key. If I left, Mike could pick up Max and meet the girls at home within the next :10 minutes. Alexis could totally handle that window of time until they met her at home.
I called Mike with the new plan as I turned back around from the school. Dropped by home just long enough to pick up the mountain of supplies and fill in Alexis.
In that moment, I couldn't help but feel grateful for acting on the thought to put everything in order earlier - all the supplies for the service project (we were making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the homeless) and the needed tools - gloves, bags, clean up supplies, portable speaker for the music, the church keys, the Light the World fliers - it was all there, ready to load. The juggle of the evening was working out.
Popping into the house just long enough to gather the supplies, Alexis was super helpful with both loading the car and taking on the :10 minute window solo until Mike and Max arrived home.
Whew, it's a juggle, but it's all good. I told myself.
The :20 minute drive to the church was relatively uneventful. I pulled into the church with a sigh of relief realizing I had not left the others waiting.
Awesome. I'll back in, park close to the door, and get the building unlocked so that when they arrive, we can unload and set up quickly together.
Opening the trunk, I reached in to grab the church keys in the spot of the box where I'd placed them earlier that evening.
No keys.
Pausing, I reached into the bag I also had pre-packed thinking I had mistaken where I'd placed them.
No keys.
Oh I must have put them in the other bag.
No keys.
Then they are in my purse. Definitely my purse.
No keys.
The cup holder. Maybe I tossed them there.
No keys.
The front passenger seat.
No keys.
Somewhere loose inside the trunk.
No keys.
Maybe I just need more light. I turned on the flashlight function of my phone to search all of those areas again.
No keys.
I paused for a moment to slow my mind. So many times, if I think back to the moment of where I had initially held them last, I can recall where I last placed them. As expected, my mind traced them back to the box. The box was full of supplies, and fairly large. I'd been praying silently as I'd been searching, but realized a more meaningful prayer might be helpful.
Maybe they slipped to another spot in the box.
I began to unload every item from the box. Jars of peanut butter, jars of jam, loaves of bread, placing them all on the sidewalk.
Then I unloaded every item in my purse.
And every item from every bag.
At that moment, I felt a wave of discouragement. The juggling had been moving from one thing to the next and all of the balls were starting to crash all over the ground. Here I was alone. Unable to fix the current predicament alone.
About that time, Sara, who was arriving early to help set up, pulled up and walked over.
"Oh hey!" I greeted her with a bit of a chuckle.
Seeing the array all over the sidewalk, she turned her head slightly and smiled, "Hi!?"
Recognizing the pickle I was in - knowing there were NO KEYS - and not having a solution at that point - I realized two routes I could take - tears/beat myself up with embarrassment/frustration OR a bit of humor mixed with sarcasm, because who hasn't forgotten something at some point?
I chose the latter, of which she started to share stories about being in the same boat - misplacing keys only to find them with a bit more looking. And jumped in to help look for the missing keys.
Yet, the more we looked, the more the clock ticked, and I realized they definitely were not in the car.
Calling home as a last ditch attempt of thinking I'd left the keys on the counter, our conversation went like this:
"Hey hon!"
"Hey, I got Max, and everyone is eating dinner, we're good. Have fun!"
"Oh awesome. Can you check something for me? Did I leave the church keys on the counter by the blender?"
Pause. "Nope. No keys. Thought you grabbed them?"
"Yep, me too. But I've looked everywhere, and must have left them in the kitchen."
Pause. We're both still searching.
"Nope. No keys here for sure."
"Huh. Okay."
My next phone call went to Christy, who wasn't planing to be there early, but was the only one who might have a set of church keys.
"Hey Christy!"
"Hey! I'll be there in two minutes to finish setting up with you guys."
"Oh awesome. We'll need the extra hands. You don't happen to have your church keys do you?"
"Um...yep...I actually do. Thought you might need the key to get into the library for the tv tonight."
Sigh of relief. So grateful.
"Awesome. Somewhere between my house and this parking lot the keys have disappeared. I'm now a bit convinced there is a hole in my car and they fell out somewhere on highway 27."
That's the sarcasm I mentioned into since leaning into laughter is so much better than frustration.
We piled everything back into the boxes, the doors were opened, and set up together in record time just as the group started arriving.
We rolled right into the evening - making sandwiches, connecting and enjoying time together while kicking off the holiday season. As we were wrapping up the evening, I circled everyone up to show a couple of videos centering around the Light the World initiative for December.
This one brings me to tears every single time.
At the close of the video, I began to share a few thoughts only to be interrupted by my phone ringing.
My phone, typically on silent for these events, was at the time, plugged into the TV. Since I'd just used it to connect the above video, the call not only made the sound of arrival, but caller ID was on the TV for all to see.
Mike Walkenhorst
Christy and Sara chuckled together, "He found the keys!"
Of which, realizing we were the only three that knew the meaning of this laughter, I took a brief moment to explain the misplaced the church keys prior to the evening beginning. No sooner do I finish then I received a ding on my phone.
This time, it was a text from Mike. Also up on the TV screen.
Abby had your keys the whole time.
Upon reading this text, the room breaks into laughter.
As if, for a moment, all burdens were made light, as we shared in the juggling of all our lives and how we're all doing the best we can. That moment. Magical.
In all the planning for this activity, I expected to feel light from doing service for others. I expected to feel light from gathering women together doing something good together. I expected to enjoy the evening. What I didn't expect, was to feel a deep sense of connection with this room of women. They caught a glimpse of my small "behind the scenes" juggle just enough to relax, relate and laugh together.
It wasn't until I came home later that evening, sandwiches made and ready for delivery, that I heard the other end of the story - Mike had searched, no one had seen the keys. An hour later, when he asked everyone to start getting ready for bed, Abby slowly walked over to him as she pulled something from her pocket. Holding the keys in her hand, she said, "Daddy, I'm so sorry."
Mike asked her where she found them and she said, "they were in the box with all the groceries that mom had by the door. I thought they were keys to a treasure box so I put them in my pocket."
Reflecting back on this juggle of an evening, I can't help but sit in the space of gratitude for the experience. Because the juggle is within all of us. Maybe not in a four-year-old-taking-keys-that-might-unlock-a-treasure-box-when-you're-trying-to-organize-a-service-activity-for-women juggle, but we're all juggling, striving to do the best we can with what we have. We're in the work. And sometimes balls are dropped. Sometimes we drop the ball. Sometimes the ball is dropped and it is beyond our grasp to catch it.
And as best we strive to keep juggling alone, we have the opportunity to realize something much deeper.
We aren't meant to juggle alone.
Things may go differently than we had planned. Or hoped.
But more often than not, those are the moments we can choose to be curious about.
Those are the moments we can lean into one another. To show up. To share our stories. To hold space with someone struggling. To be the one that can fill in the gaps. To be the one that can lighten the load or the burden of another.
Because it's in that juggling together, that we begin to truly see and value the light within all of us.
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