It was 1983, and Nate was about to buy a special birthday gift for me. “Would you prefer silver or gold?” he asked.

“How ‘bout gold, to match my wedding rings?”

I didn’t know what I was asking, because he bought me a gold Rolex watch that cost over $5000. Silver was priced at half. When he gave it to me, I had no idea what it was worth, although I’d heard Rolex was a “good” brand of watches. I don’t think I loved it five thousand dollars worth, but I wore it often, enjoying Nate’s thoughtfulness.

Louisa came along in 1988, a dynamite child who kept us hopping. One Sunday morning as we struggled to get six children off to church, Weezi was getting into mischief in our bathroom. I lifted her to the sink top and sat her next to my make-up bag, trying to buy the few more minutes I needed. When she tired of that, I pulled off my Rolex and handed it to her. That did the trick, and once I was ready, I lifted her down and off we went.

Two days later, I opened the dresser drawer to get my watch, and it wasn’t there. Trying to think where it might be, I remembered the last time I’d seen it was in Louisa’s pudgy hands. Did I ever get it back from her? Had I worn it since then? Did she have it in her hands when we went to the car?

Nate and I hunted high and low for that watch, both inside and outside. We offered the kids a monetary reward for finding it, and they looked with passion, but it never surfaced.

Reconstructing the events of the last day, our conclusion was that little Louisa had accidentally dropped it. Standing next to her as she sat atop the sink, I didn’t hear it land on the sink or tile floor because most likely it went into the waste basket next to the sink cabinet, cushioned by facial tissues and other papers. The next time I tied up that plastic waste can liner, the watch must been inside and gone to the big garbage can in the garage, which subsequently went to the street for pick-up. The truck had come the day before we began our search.

Nate just shook his head. His disappointment made me feel badly about my irresponsible decision to hand it to a baby, but even then I didn’t know how much it was worth, so I didn’t feel five thousand dollars worth of bad.

We kept our eyes open for months, and finally Nate said, “Well, I think it’s really gone. I’m going to make a claim on our householders insurance.”

“For a watch?” I asked, thinking householders was for bigger items like roof leaks or basement floods.

“I took out an insurance rider,” Nate said, “just in case.”

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“No. That watch was worth $5000.”

Suddenly I felt five thousand dollars worth of ashamed. Maybe ten thousand. After interviews, statements and signatures, the insurance company made good on the rider and sent us a check for $5000. By this time it was 1990, and the seven years following his Rolex purchase had been tough ones at the office. Because of steadily declining business income, the insurance check meant a great deal to both of us. It provided family groceries for quite a while.

So, every cloud has a silver lining, or, in this case, a gold one. Although I lost my beautiful watch, we gained a boat load of food supplies and a valuable lesson: God moves down the road ahead of us and readies our provision before we get there. I felt at least five thousand dollars worth of gratitude.

”Great are the works of the Lord; they are pondered by all who delight in them. He has caused his wonders to be remembered; the Lord is gracious and compassionate. He provides food for those who fear him; he remembers his covenant forever.” (Psalm 111:2,4-5)