Our dog escaped again. This time it was a contractor's fault. The gutter guys were here today, and one of them left a gate open. We let her out after they were gone. No one noticed the open gate because you can't see the gates from the back door. Molly seized the opportunity to flee. (Maybe we should call her Flee Bag?)
Joel and I hopped in the van to retrieve her. (Molly is the golden; we are the retrievers.) She will hop into the van without any prodding. Loves a car ride! But we couldn't find her on our first pass through the neighborhood. On our second time around, Joel says, "You should pray." So I said, "You're right. Dear Jesus, please help us find Molly, and keep her safe."
He added, "and don't let her get hit by a car."
Would you believe, the very next house we saw a young girl with Molly on a leash, knocking on those people's door. (They have a golden, but the lady is not particularly nice to others' dogs.) She was such a sweet girl and so responsible. I thanked her profusely and apologized for the inconvenience. She and her mom (older sister? hard to tell) were happy to help.
I think I've lost track of so many things and Joel has heard me pray out loud. ( I call myself the Patron Saint of Lost Things.) He goes around praying about lost Lego men heads, lost colored pencils, lost Spiderman shirt....