I got a phone call early this afternoon.
It was Kristi, and I could hear her grin through the phone.
“Guess what?!?!” she (practically) shrieked. “They found my backpack! They have my backpack! It’s at the police station and I can go get it!”
I instantly broke into my version of the happy dance, which, if you saw it would remind you more of the potty dance, but whatever. There was dancing. There was celebrating. There were even tears.
Someone found it next to the canal that runs behind the elementary school that is across the street from our neighborhood. Everything inside was wet (most things were soaked, thanks to the solid week of rain we’ve gotten), but most of it is salvageable. They had gone through everything and dumped it into one huge (extremely soggy) pile, but aside from a few credit cards, three DVDs, some cash and a little change (okay, about 2 pounds of change) and her laptop, it was all there… plus some snails. Being the heroic sister that I am, I picked them off and threw them into the street. (Okay, one. I picked one off.) I know that there weren’t snails in her bag when it was stolen, so wasn’t it nice of Mother Nature to leave her a little something to make up for what was taken?
Even the zip drive was there, completely dry and unaffected.
A lot of people prayed for her during the last week, and just the other day I told her that if you went by my kids’ prayers alone, her backpack should sprout wings and fly through her bedroom window.
Of course, this way was good, too. It was a happy, happy day.