I reached into my purse for my phone to show grandson, Sam, a message. Then it hit me. That thing I saw fly off the front of my car on the highway was my phone that I laid there in my garage twenty minutes earlier. It wasn’t a piece of paper—it was my phone; my brains!

            “Oh no! My phone!”

            “What’s the matter, Grandma? Did you leave your phone in the car?”

            “No. It’s on the fly-over ramp to I-435. That 40 mile-an-hour wind blew it off the car. I’ll have to go back and look for it.”

            My daughter, Sara, shoved her feet into her shoes. “I’ll go with you, Mom. Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”

            Of all days for this to happen. Sam was leaving for a trip to Mt. Everest after graduating high school the week before. Then he’d be off to the Air Force Academy. I’d not see him again until Thanksgiving. My searching for the phone would eat up the precious few minutes we could spend together.   Sara and I drove the highway in a careful search to no avail.

            “Maybe you left it at home, Mom.”

            “Not a chance. I know I laid it on the hood before I put Sam’s cookies in the car.” To appease her, I drove home to look. No luck.

            “Well, I guess I’ll have to chalk this up to ‘Don’t ever leave the house without putting my phone in my purse’ lesson.”

            We drove over the route again but saw nothing. We rode in silence to Sara’s. My head spun. I’d have to enjoy the precious minutes left with Sam and then go to the phone store and buy a new one. I served as a chaplain to corporations and was required to be on call 24/7.

            At the phone store I chose one and spent an hour and a half getting it set up. There was only one hitch. I hadn’t correctly configured my old one to send everything to the Google cloud. I had phone numbers—over 1,800 of them—but no names. A lot of good that would do me! I also had few photos and no videos. I had to find that phone this afternoon. The weatherman predicted heavy thunderstorms by evening.

            I finished my errands, and on the way home, prayed, “Lord, please give me eyes to see that phone. I know You know where it is.”  I drove up the ramp very slowly. Cars whizzed around me. Did I mention this was Memorial Day? Everyone was in a terrible rush to get somewhere.

            Near the top of the fly-over I spotted it next to the concrete Jersey Barrier two lanes to the left. I pulled to the side of my lane, put on my hazard lights, and waited till there was a little break in traffic. I jumped out, ran across two lanes, and grabbed it. When I picked up the phone unscathed, the screen dutifully came on. The only damage—the case had partially come off one corner. Now I could take it to the phone store and transfer names, photos, and videos.

            That night I could scarcely sleep for praising God for giving me eyes to see.

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