Yesterday morning I saw a sad and yet common sight. Coming out of one our local grocery stores, I schlepped my purchases into the car. Food for breakfast, lunch and dinner filled my arms. I had already maneuvered my way around ice patches and their accompanying melted puddles filled with water. Safely stashing my food into the car, my eyes saw the sad sight of one single, tiny glove on the ground. It was not an ordinary glove. It was a Spider-Man glove. A black background of knit held the yellow and red webs shooting down each of the fingers. Spidey’s super powers were now drenched with the muddy, wet run-off of a spring that is trying to make an appearance. This tiny glove had been, no doubt, the casualty of an adult trying to juggle both child, packages and who knows what else as they entered their car.

This glove will, of course, be the first of many that will begin to be seen over the next weeks. As the weather warms up, we take our gloves and mittens on and off with such regularity that their being lost is almost a sure thing. Soon we will see gloves riding a street sign. Another will be placed hopefully on a wall or other cleared surface. They will mostly be singles. It is rare to lose both at the same time. In houses near and far, children will be sent to search for handwarmers in boxes, under beds, in mud rooms, in a stray coat. They will come back empty handed. It is the inevitable result of needing gloves for too many days, weeks, months.

Seeing this stray glove led me to think about lost things. For those of us in the Christian household, last Sunday’s scripture brought us the familiar story of the Prodigal Son. This story is sandwiched together with two other stories of lost things. The Lost Sheep and the Lost Coin. In all these stories, what was lost was eventually found. For the most part.

But it is not always the case. The wet Spidey glove will probably make its way into a garbage can, picked up in spring cleaning, never to be reunited with its mate. Those of us who have lost other things…..jobs, people, faith, confidence, hope……just to name a few, often still struggle to find what is lost. We push and pull, fight against the flow of energy, sometimes to no avail. Other times we are handed what seems a miracle.The lost is found.

Sometime ago I read a book whose title was The Patron Saint of Lost Things. At this point in time the fullness of the story is lost to me but the title comes through loud and clear. How I wish the Patron Saint of Lost Things could surround all those who carry loss around like an overstuffed backpack. How I wish this same saint could soothe the suffering of these dear ones.

Reading these scripture stories again this week it was clear to me that being lost or losing something or someone dear is a part of what it means to be human. It was also clear that the stories attributed to Jesus seek to bring some kind of balm. One of their central messages seems to be that whenever we experience loss, which we inevitably will, we never experience this alone. The One who breathed us into being holds the wound of that place with us and celebrates with us when the loss is overcome in some way. Sometimes this comes through the hand or word of another. Sometimes it is a soft wind of feeling that washes over us that just carries a comfort of Mystery.

May the Patron Saint of Lost Things walk with all of us this day. Just in case.