Let the Monkey Princess Answer

God is alive, active, and present

Doubting myself is the most plausible thing I do every minute of every day. I have blessed assurance of two things: God’s infallibility, and my stupidity.

You know that feeling when you’re about to leave everything you own except what you can fit into a small suitcase and a backpack? Your friend is in the driveway to take you to a relatively tiny tube of complicated mechanics that will lift you 40 000 ft in the air so you can visit family?

You’ve shut off the toilets, put the lights on timers, left sticky notes on all the plants describing their individual watering needs to the person you are trusting to take care of your most valuable asset (the house, not the plants). 

You’ve taken out the recycling, compost, and garbage, packed the present for Aunt Kitty, oh and there’s the cat crying in her crate beside the bag of her food and toys you thoughtfully provided for her little vacation at the house full of dogs.

That was me, sitting in the passenger seat after locking the front door — after checking that all the other doors were locked — doing a last check: passport, phone with eTicket preloaded, wallet. 

I decided to change the gloves I was wearing, because, you know, that’s important. I dug out the front door key from the clip on my back pack, (I’m a “everything in its place and a place for everything,” “set it and forget it” kind of person. Systems help me remember things.) dashed in and out of the house one last time, and nodded to my friend that she could start my journey.

Keys are more than tools to gain access to everything we own. I am sentimentally attached to my bunch. One day I was walking in the park talking with God about the mixture of good and bad in my life.

I cried out, “Lord! Life is more “fun” than a barrel of monkeys!”

The next instant, I looked down and there on the path beside my foot was a key chain of monkeys.

I laughed so hard! I’ve been laughing with God for years about how He answered me in that moment. Anytime I am fearful, I just have to glance at those monkeys attached to my other keys to feel better.

For my trip, I took only my monkey key chain and the front door key. I had recently changed the locks and only had one key which I gave to my friend who was looking after the house. She lovingly scolded me and generously cut more keys to be sure I would be able to get back in to enjoy my worldly possessions. 

She cut one special “theme” key for me: a pink key with gemstones imbedded and “Princess” written across it, because I have written a book about a princess.

Fast forward to the day I’m packing to return home. My key and monkeys are not on the clip where I expect to find them. I have not followed through on my system. Chills threaten, but I squash them. I remember my last minute dash to change my gloves.

But the keys are not in my coat pocket, or any pocket. Not in my purse, back pack, suitcase, sponge bag. I unpack everything. No monkeys! No key of any kind.

Worst case scenarios flood my mind. 

I dropped them in a snow bank outside my house. 

I had them in my lap in the car, got out, and the keys fell onto the airport curb. 

I had them in my pocket and had to dump them in the bin at security and forgot to pick them up. The secruity guard did flag my bad and went on a chase through my belongings. That did distract me. 

They all seemed perfectly plausible.

Doubting myself is the most plausible thing I do every minute of every day. I have blessed assurance of two things: God’s infallibility, and my stupidity. 

So I went into recovery mode. 

My dear friend left her key under my door mat so I could get into the house. My other dear friend waited extra long at the airport while I found and interrogated the lost and found clerk. She opened a file for me.

I planned and fretted and resigned myself to replacing all my keys. I remember thinking it would be good to leave the mail and car keys at home, but I didn’t trust myself to be that smart and follow through on the thought. And we all know how expensive those car fobs are to replace.

My friends are wonderful! They are God-given Holy hands and feet. They offered to help me, trusting me with their assets while I replaced mine.

Inside the house, I found the car and mail keys! I’m not as dumb as I thought and God is screaming, “I’ve got you! You are safe. Everything is fine.”

I had been looking for the larger set of keys — big black fobs and the old door key dominated my subconscious. My perception blanked by fear and overwhelm at the beginning of my trip, and at the discovery of my failure to follow the system overrode what I searched for at the end. A tiny bunch of monkeys attached to a pink princess key did not take up enough space in my physical-spatial awareness to be available to my fingers and eyes as I searched.

Knowing that the car keys were on the kitchen counter freed my mind to find the Monkey Princess.

And God gently laughed because He knew all along that all was well. He wants the best for me and that includes me trusting myself. It’s a way of trusting Him. He doesn’t make junk.

And He is alive, active, present, and loves a good barrel of monkeys to laugh with!