A disappearing camera

This true story happened last week. Part of me doesn't want to tell it. It doesn't showcase my best characteristics. But God had lessons in it and it should be recorded.

Two Fridays ago, we had a party. Just some friends, some soup, and some games. We did the usual pre-party cleaning and preparing. I even thought, I should put my purse and camera away, just in case. It's not that I didn't trust my friends, but I didn't know who was coming.

Then I needed my camera so I got it out again. In a rush, I left the camera in plain site on my desk. Then the party started.

It was a fun evening with fellowship, Taboo, Apple to Apples and foozball. I knew everyone who came, at least by appearance, except for one couple that some friends brought. Those unknowns only stayed 20 minutes. I figured we weren't having their kind of party.

On Monday, I needed my camera. I couldn't find it. I retraced my steps. It wasn't in any of the places I usually put it. It wasn't in any of places I regularly set things in my absentmindedness. It wasn't in its case. I couldn't even find the card reader that usually sits on my desk. I had a sinking certainty that my camera had been stolen. I've been known to misplace many things, so I kept looking. But that unknown couple, who slipped in and out stood out in my mind as suspicious. I feared my camera had been stolen. After a few days, I became certain.

The theft turned into a personal struggle with God. My inward conversations with the Almighty went something like,"God, I know you promise to give those who love you what they need. But you only think we need food and clothing. This is technically true. And I want to be content with that. But I need a camera." Obviously I don't need a camera. I want a camera. One of my favorite, and most prideful, activities is to record the events and emotions of my families' life as it passes--in words and pictures. How would I record that hole in H's mouth when the wiggly tooth finally came out? What about the first grade play in February? And what about all those Christmas pictures that I hadn't uploaded yet that were lost? I cried. I got angry. I could probably get enough birthday money in March to buy a new camera, but I didn't want to spend my birthday money on a new camera when I was happy with the one I used to have. And then I was dismayed. I was whining about a camera when I had so much. I even had means in the future to replace the camera. My greed and materialism were shining brightly.

When I told a few people about the loss, they suggested I confront the people, since I knew who brought them to our party. Or start checking the pawn shops. I knew that this was God's battle, not mine. People don't like this answer. Or they were hoping to be helpful. If I found my camera in the pawn shop how would I prove it was mine? Hope the thief hadn't erased the existing pictures? And if you didn't know for certain that someone had stolen something, or even if you did, would really confront them? Beg them for the picture card back? Even as I whined and cried, I also wanted to be content with what God had given me. Which, at that point, was not a camera. A classic internal battle waged on and I prayed it would end with an attitude that pleased God.

This past Tuesday, I was sorting bills. I opened an old antique desk in my living room and though the true color is dull silver, inside was a shining silver camera. I didn't leap or shout for joy. I was embarrassed. I hadn't overcome my struggles to be content with what I had, but I had accused innocent, unknown people who merely left my party quickly. To those people, if you ever read this, forgive me.

God's glimpse into the more visceral desires and leanings of my heart are humbling. I am thankful to have my camera again. I still have no idea how it got into that old desk. I swear I left in on my computer desk. But I have no doubt that God was speaking into my life. I pray the lesson takes root in my heart.

Now, how would you react if you lost one of your favorite possessions?